Last Day of Paws With a Cause Event! Lisa Henry and JA Rock Give New Meaning to A GOOD BOY!

I was always the kid who cried outside pet shops. Well, first I begged and cajoled, then bargained, then I cried. Because even though nobody else in the world would love that kitten/dog/rat as much as I would, my parents would never let me have it.

 Now I’m an alleged grown-up, and I know better than to walk into pet stores. You know why? Because those are the cute fluffy animals, and they’ll be okay. It’s the ones at the shelters that need homes. The one-eyed cats, the three-legged dogs, and all the animals that have outgrown their baby fuzz.

 In The Good Boy, Christy Fields runs an animal shelter. Christy is the sister of one of our MC’s Derek, and she’s passionate about animal welfare. She rehabilitates dumped animals so that they can be rehoused. It’s a theme that kind of crosses over into the main story arc – our other MC Lane needs some rehabilitating himself – but we had a lot of fun with it. Mostly because of Mr. Zimmerman.

 Mr. Zimmerman is a macaw with a checkered past, a more-than-checkered vocabulary, and he is totally beyond rehabilitation. Living for years with your elderly foul-mouthed namesake will do that for you. Mr. Zimmerman the human might be long gone, but his cranky obscenity-spewing spirit lives on in Mr. Zimmerman the macaw.

 Mr. Zimmerman lives with Christy, where he spends his days stalking along his perch complaining about his many medical ailments, refugees and taxes, and showering the other rescue animals, and any unfortunate guests, with colorful abuse. He’s irredeemable, and I think I love him. I just don’t want him in my house.

 My house is already full, thanks. A dog, three rescue cats, and as many possums that can break in at night. I’m still a complete sucker for animals with a good sob story. One of my cats came from a friend who was living in rental accommodation that didn’t allow pets. So the stray that turned up came to me:

My second cat came directly from the police station where I work. As in, it followed me to the back door — a thick glass door. I went inside and closed the door. The cat tried to follow me through anyway. That cat, I told myself, is too stupid to survive on the street. So he came home with me:

The third cat was delivered directly to my door on a day off.

 Knock knock knock.

 I opened to door to find two police officers standing there. “We found this kitten in the gutter.”

 “And?” I didn’t look at it, because that’s always a mistake.

 “And you like cats, right?”

 “I already have enough cats.”

 “If we take it to the pound, it will probably get put down.” The manipulative bastards knew exactly what to say.

 I looked at the kitten. It was small, trembling, skinny. Its spine stuck out like a band saw. And, naturally, I couldn’t refuse.

 “You guys owe me for this!” I shouted at them as they left, my hands full of kitten. They laughed at me.  

That third cat, the timid, skinny, frail one, is currently in my bedroom sitting on my dresser. She’s knocking items off onto the floor. Thump. Thump. Thump. That’s her subtle way of telling me it’s time for her breakfast. Timid, skinny, frail? No. Successfully rehabilitated into obnoxious, plump, and tough as nails. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When I was fifteen, I started volunteering at the local animal shelter. My mom said it was okay as long as I didn’t bring home any animals. So I brought home this.

That was Crazy Pete. It took me two weeks of sitting in front of his cage and talking nonsense to him before he stopped snarling and hurling himself against the door and let me pet him. No one else could touch him, and he was gonna get put down, so…. Crazy Pete lived with my family for nine happy years. They were happy, weren’t they, mom? You forgive me, right?

Last year, foolishly believing myself ready for adult responsibilities, I went to another shelter and brought home this.

This is my BFF Professor Anne. She was 50% off, and I got a coupon for a free Dairy Queen Blizzard for adopting her. I got free ice cream, a constant companion, someone who once saved me from a burglar, and she got…someone who stays up till 4 am belly dancing and singing. In a one room cabin. Where there is no escape. So I’d say it was a pretty fair exchange.

In September, this guy showed up on my property.

This is Andy. Andy would hang out in my yard, sleep on my driveway, and make tentative efforts to play with Professor Anne. But if I approached him, he’d slink away. So I started going out side with handfuls of milk-bones. I’d sit on the grass and toss treats toward Andy, but he’d wait until I got up and walked away before he’d eat them. After weeks of this, he let me touch his paw. That’s as far as we’ve gotten. I think he lives with someone in the neighborhood now. I still see him every once in a while, looking well-fed. He wags his tail when he sees me. But won’t come too close.

When Lisa and I were writing The Good Boy and we needed a canine character whose journey could parallel ultra-skitish MC Lane’s, we used Andy. “Put the milk-bone down and walk away” becomes Derek’s tactic with Lane. And Lane finds that his own longing to earn Andy’s trust makes him more open to trusting Derek. I truly believe the trust and love we share with animals makes us more confident and giving in our relationships with other people. It was so much fun to explore that concept in The Good Boy.

And I hold onto the hope that one day Andy will let me snuggle him.

THE GOOD BOY blurb:

Introverted college student Lane Moredock is in a bad place. His mother has been arrested for securities fraud, his father is on the run, and everyone, including the SEC, suspects Lane knows where the missing millions are. Lane, with no money and nowhere to live, makes a desperate deal that lands him in trouble and leaves him unwilling to trust a so-called Dom again.

Photographer Derek Fields lost money to the Moredocks, and is as sure as anyone that Lane is guilty despite his claims. A chance meeting with Lane shows him there might be something more to the young man than arrogance and privilege, and Derek wonders if Lane might be just what he’s been looking for: a sub with the potential to be a life partner.

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