Berkley Prime Crime
It’s the dog days in Savannah and speaking of big dogs…Bruce Willis here.
Not that one, the other Bruce Willis. Me!
Once upon a time I didn’t have such a great life so I ran away and took up living under Reagan Summerside’s front porch. Don’t know why I chose her. Maybe because at the moment Reagan’s life sucked almost as much as mine.
But she’s an okay gal, even shared her McNuggets and fries with me but kept the martinis all to herself. I mean to tell you I could have done with a martini or two on these hot summer nights.
Reagan has a consignment shop on the first floor of her half-restored Victorian. She and her Auntie KiKi who lives next door were going to name me Calvin Klein to fit in with the upscale clothes she takes in. (Good Grief!) One look at my mangled left ear, crooked tail and scared snout not to mention my questionable linage and they had to know I was much better suited as Bruce Willis.
Life is good right now. Reagan says I’m the worse watch dog on the planet but I sure do make a lot of friends. If I fake a limp I can usually finesse a cookie or two from the customers and if I sit in front of the fridge long enough I get my daily dog…hotdog that is.
Life as the other Bruce Willis isn’t half bad. The dog days here in Savannah are made for me snoozing in the shade and maybe one day I can get a slurp of Reagan’s peach martini. And you wonder what dogs dream of when they're napping.
So, what are you doing these dog days in August? I'll have Reagan send you an Iced Chiffon tote if I choose your name.