Dogwinks

Includes the story Rescued by Ruby-a Netflix film!

The bestselling and beloved Godwink series returns with a charming, dog-focused collection of "joyful" (The Washington Post) stories, all of which provide plenty of hope, encouragement, and laughter.

With delightfully uplifting stories and enthralling prose, DogWinks is the perfect gift for dog lovers of all backgrounds. Featuring several never-before-published and true stories about coincidences and divine intervention, DogWinks is an inspirational and entertaining book that illustrates the overwhelming power of faith and how miracles can change our lives and those of our canine companions.

Autorentext

SQuire Rushnell was an executive at ABC TV for twenty years. He is the author of LITTLE DAVID'S ADVENTURE, a children's book he created based on the animated television show. He has appeared on TV programmes in the US such as NBC News, CBS This Morning and Good Morning America.

Klappentext

Includes the story Rescued by Ruby—now on Netflix!

The bestselling and beloved Godwink series returns with a charming, dog-focused collection of “joyful” (The Washington Post) stories, all of which provide plenty of hope, encouragement, and laughter.

Zusammenfassung
Includes the story Rescued by Rubynow on Netflix!The bestselling and beloved Godwink series returns with a charming, dog-focused collection of joyful (The Washington Post) stories, all of which provide plenty of hope, encouragement, and laughter.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1: Ruby 1 RUBY
A blue pickup truck drives into the Rhode Island SPCA parking lot, pulling into a spot adjacent to a wire fence. The sign on the truck’s door, “Lazybones Dog Training,” helps identify the driver.

Out hops an attractive woman in her late thirties who heads into the building. Minutes later, we see her behind the wire fence.

She is Pat Inman, a dog trainer, who donates some of her time every week to the SPCA, helping dogs get ready for their critically important adoption interviews with potential families. She teaches them basic manners. In other words, she is helping them to put their best paw forward.

“I’ll be right with you, Ruby!” she shouts to her favorite canine student, who is dashing around the enclosure. “I just need a minute to get ready.”

Ruby, seven months old, is a frisky, long-haired, black-and-white pup, preoccupied with running back and forth like she’s out of control.

Is she?

No, that’s just the nature of Australian shepherds and border collies. Ruby’s a mix of both. The breeds have nearly duplicate characteristics: very bright, highly active, and loaded with mischief.

Ruby stops, looks back to see if her friend Pat is watching. What’s this? An unguarded moment? She bolts.

Pat, getting her long auburn hair under control for her training session, has placed her pink ballcap on the bench beside her as she pulls her hair into a ponytail.

In that moment of distraction, Ruby loops around, playfully snatches the ballcap, and zips off, carrying it in her mouth like a prize.

“Ruby! Come back here!” shouts Pat, laughing at the same time. “Ruby! Bring it here.”

Ruby obeys, heading back. She likes to please Pat. Most of the time. Anybody else would have had to chase her till exhaustion before getting that hat back.

She trots to the bench, dropping the ballcap at her teacher’s feet. Pat good-naturedly strokes Ruby’s neck and hugs her warmly.

In her canine business, as well as her volunteer duties at the SPCA, Pat works with dozens of dogs. She is fond of most of them. But there’s something special about Ruby.

Releasing her hug, she attempts to disguise a worry in her heart.

Ruby is scheduled for an adoption interview later that day. It’ll be the fifth family to take her home for a “tryout.” Unfortunately, the four previous families returned Ruby within forty-eight hours, with nearly identical complaints: “unmanageable,” “scared the children,” “prone to nipping.”

The last observation, “nipping,” is one of the least desirable charges to have on a dog’s record. Pat’s been around long enough to know that “nipping”—one step away from “biting”—ignites the anxiety of lawyers. And if Ruby happens to be returned one more time, the animal shelter may have to “make a decision.” She shudders at those words.

“C’mon, Ruby,” says Pat, with playful resolve in her voice. “We’ve got work to do. You are going to meet some wonderful people, so let’s teach you some manners.”

Pat always makes things fun. So whatever she suggests sounds good to Ruby.

If only Ruby could keep her doggie mind on what she’s supposed to be doing. She gets distracted; she just can’t help it.

Zip! She’s off. A squirrel has entered the fenced-in area, commanding Ruby’s entire attention.

Pat watches, hands on her hips, letting out a sigh.

In nearby Providence, a state police vehicle pulls into the driveway of a modest suburban home. Stepping out, handsome in his gray-and-red Mountie-like uniform, thirty-one-year-old Trooper Daniel O’Neil is greeted by Charlie, an older German shepherd.

Dan lovingly rubs Charlie’s neck, asking if he’s been keeping a close watch on the premises. Familiar with the question, Charlie woofs an affirmative reply.

Melissa is at the kitchen sink when Dan comes in. Their three-year-old, Gavin, runs to Daddy, who scoops the boy up, and then he leans over to his wife, planting a kiss on her cheek. Melissa smiles, grabs a towel to dry her hands, then turns to look her husband in the eyes, expressing her joy at seeing him home safe and sound.

“How you feeling?” asks Dan softly.

Melissa places her hands on her tummy. “About three months pregnant.” She laughs.

“Morning sickness?”

“Not much,” says Melissa. “How’d it go with you?”

Dan pulls out a chair and sits at the kitchen table, where Melissa joins him.

“Same ol’, same ol’. No prospect of a partner,” says Dan sadly.

Melissa knows exactly what her husband means. For several years Dan has persistently tried to get into the state police K9 unit. That’s his dream. But everyone pretty much knew that without a canine partner to match up with, you’d be an officer without a purpose.

Melissa can’t count the number of times Dan has made regular appointments to remain visible with Sgt. Matthew Zarrella, the canine commander for the K9 unit. He always returns home disappointed. But, bless his heart, her hubby has a trait everyone admires: he sticks to a goal like Gorilla Glue.

Melissa remembers Dan’s mom telling her about her son growing up with ADD. His technique in dealing with attention deficit disorder was always to pour on the persistence. He did that in high school sports and, later, getting through the police academy. Bulldog determination.

From all of Dan’s prior meetings with Sgt. Zarrella, Melissa could recite in her sleep why there was no prospect of a partner for her husband… No budget.

“I still don’t understand why canines can’t be put into the state police budget.” She sighs.

“They do get put in, they just don’t stay in,” says Dan, twisting his mouth. “Politicians look at the ten- or fifteen-thousand-dollar price tag for dogs purchased in the Czech Republic, or somewhere else in the worl…