This is the post that started off my literary career. I wrote it back in May 2012 on my mom’s blog (she’s also a writer; I try to teach her a few tricks from time to time).


Checking my spelling.

Checking my spelling.

Ok, now that I’m settled on my boss’s/mama’s lap and have my paws in the correct place on the keyboard, I’m ready to start typing. Ruff! Yes, you guessed it, this is Lucy and I am the office secretary. I also happen to be a beagle. I specialize in peeing on trees, sniffing for scraps in the kitchen, playing with pugs in the park, and writing the occasional blog post while at work, between naps of course.

Today is an exciting day. It’s the first day of my mom’s blogathon (31 blog posts in 31 days) and she’s asked me to guest post! So I’ve decided to tell you about why I love my new home, San Francisco. It is WAY better than where I come from, Chicago, for several reasons. Hoooowwwll! Is that a bird outside of my window? That varmit! *>$#!@&

Phew, I’m back, but I still feel like growling. Grr. That bird was totally taunting me. Ok, breathe. So back to my story. My mom and dad found me a year ago in a shelter in downtown Chicago. I knew they were suckers the moment I saw them. I was jumping around my cage like a banshee, but when that didn’t get their attention, I sat quietly and looked at my soon-to-be mom with the saddest eyes I could muster. Bingo! I was in their car less than two hours later and off to my new home.

We lived in Chicago for about 11 months before coming to San Francisco. It was alright, but my walks were super boring, just around the same five blocks, never off my leash. I would see squirrels all the time and could never chase them, which really curled my tail, if you know what I mean. I also didn’t like the snow. I’m a lady; my paws are sensitive. Worse than the snow was the booties my mom made me wear. She loved taking pictures of me in those booties, go figure. I didn’t see what the big deal was. They were just booties.

Anyway, one day my parents loaded me into the car for a six-day drive across the country. We stopped at our new house in San Francisco and it’s been all roses and sunshine ever since. I go to the park every morning–off leash!–and can sniff (and pee on) all the trees I want. I’ve also gotten really into eating grass. Maybe I was a cow in a previous life. What is that?!?! RUFF! —–===

Ok, I thought there was a knock at the door, but it’s cool. My morning walks are fun, but my evening walks are even better. Sometimes my mom and dad take me down to the ocean and I get to jump in the waves, and other times I get to go on a run with my mom up big hills. I love the hills, but she seems to get mad at them because she swears a lot while we are walking up steep verticals.

So yes, San Francisco is the most wonderful place I’ve lived. I am in the best shape of my life (boy dogs: I’m fixed, so don’t even think about it) because I get to run so much. Only three more hours until my dad comes home and takes me out again. I can’t wait.

Phew. This writing thing is exhausting. Back to my nap, but not before I try to catch one more bird!

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