I’ve never been much of a ‘morning person’. My father, by contrast, most certainly was. All the years I knew him, there was never a day wherein my father so much as even slept in. Not by my recollection, at any rate.

Sasha, mine and Elaina’s Australian Labradoodle, had only been gone for a few days before the signs of her absence became clear. By gone, I do not mean deceased; she was simply out of the house. Out of the country, in fact. Indeed, our dog was on vacation in Florida.

While I’ve always enjoyed writing, it wasn’t until after my father passed away that I truly took up my pen and got to work.