My name is Andrew Joyce and I used to have a partner in crime until he set off for loftier environs. His name was Danny and he was a pretty good writer … for a dog. And he had many fans. Below is a picture of him with the Miami chapter of his fan club.
Anyway, I thought I might share with you one of Danny’s favorite stories. I still remember the day he writes about like it was yesterday … but it was eight years ago. Danny remembered it too. That’s why he told the tale that you are about to read.
Danny Goes to the Beach
What a time I had yesterday. I went to the beach!
I like to wake Andrew up early and take him for his walk before it gets too hot out. And I like our walks because there’s a whole lotta good sniffing out there. But yesterday it was Andrew that roused me from a sound sleep. I was dreaming of turkey slices. I was about to bite into a big, fat juicy slice when he shook me awake. I almost bit him.
Anyway, he told me we were going to the beach to watch the sun come up. When we walk, I lead the way, but when we go to the beach, Andrew drives the car because I don’t have a driver’s license. Can you believe it? Florida doesn’t give dogs driver licenses! I emailed the governor about this injustice, but I haven’t heard back from him yet. I know that not having thumbs might be problematic. How would I grip the steering wheel? But I figure I’ll worry about that after I get my license.
Sunrises—and sunsets for that matter—don’t do much for me; they have no scent. So what’s the big deal? But I allow Andrew to take me to the beach because I have my own agenda. I love to bark at other dogs. The beach we go to is secluded, and dogs are not allowed (another email I must send to the governor). However, dogs take their humans there in the early morning and as long as everyone is gone shortly after the sun comes up, there’s no trouble.
So we get to the beach and Andrew sets up his folding beach chair. He’s such a wuss; can’t he just sit on the sand like everyone else? Me, he ties to a palm tree. Then he waits for the sun to come up. What does he think … it’s not going to come up unless he’s watching?
As I said, I have my own reasons for being there, so I start my nose a-twitching. I can smell another dog from a mile away. If I were a super hero, I’d be known as SUPER SNOOT. I would sniff out my nefarious nemeses and bring them to justice. I think I’d look cool with a cape. I look good in blue, so it would be blue with a big red “D” emblazoned right in the middle of it. Danny the Dog, mild-mannered dog by day, SUPER SNOOT by night! I like the sound of that.
I digress. Back to my story.
Andrew’s getting excited because the sun is coming up (what a surprise!). And I’m sniffing for dogs when all of a sudden I detect something good, as in chicken-bone good. So I put my super snoot to the ground and start my search. Of course, being SUPER SNOOT, I find the bones right away. They were only a few inches under the sand. But before I take one of those delightful morsels into my mouth, I give Andrew a surreptitious glance to make sure he isn’t going to ruin my fun. I needn’t have worried. His attention was on a red ball coming up out of the ocean, turning the clouds a bright pink and orange. So he was engaged. That’s when I bit into the first bone. CRUNCH! At the sound, Andrew turned and saw my treasure. I didn’t know the old guy could move that fast. He was out of his chair, and before I could do anything about it, he had my whole stash. At least I had half a bone in my mouth and he wasn’t going to get that.
The short of it is, I distracted Andrew from his precious sunrise. He took my bones, and I didn’t get to bark at a single dog. What a bust! On the ride home, I didn’t go over and lick his face as I usually do. I was mad at him and he was mad at me. But by the time we got home, all was forgiven and he gave me a turkey slice. That’s why I keep him around.
Andrew Joyce Website
Chris The Story Reading Ape's Blog 
Danny! You dog, you… Such a great life and we are so lucky that you took the time to document your adventures. You will always be a superhero to me. And I am supporting AJ on this one… NO CHICKEN BONES, DUDE! There, I said it. As I know you sent the tales into the Andrew’s mind to set forth into print, I also know that as he reads this, you will hear it. Love you, Danny. Thanks for being. ❤
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It was always a constant fight to keep Danny away from chicken bones. He would always fool me by pretending to sniff where another dog had peed. But that wasn’t the case. Early in his career, when he was on the trail of a chicken bone, he would be intense. He noticed that I noticed, so over time, he took on an air of boredom. It was like he was saying, “Nothing to see here. You do your human thing and enjoy nature and I’ll do my dog thing.” So I’d look up at a safire-blue sky with puffing white clouds dotted about. Or I’d check out a stately old oak and marvel at God’s greatness. Then it would come, “CRUNCH!” He got me every time.
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‘Bed Time Stories…’ has several Danny stories and I enjoyed them all. To be truthful, sometimes it was a great diversion from the intensity of Andrew’s stories to have a Danny story inserted. Thank you for another heartwarming story.
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Thank you for taking the time to read it. And please, pretty please, don’t forget to leave a review on Amazon for “Bedtime Stories.”
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Review complete awaiting Amazon approval. Glad to help any way I can.
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You are a saint!!!
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Reblogged this on Die Erste Eslarner Zeitung – Aus und über Eslarn, sowie die bayerisch-tschechische Region!.
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Thanks for sharing, Michael 😀
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Reblogged this on Smorgasbord – Variety is the spice of life and commented:
Ahhhh the lovely Danny.. we do miss him and his wicked comments.. and calling me Ms. Spicy.. Andrew shares one of Danny’s brilliantly written stories about his misadventures.. I bet he is leading a few of our friends astray somewhere green with a beach dogs can run on off the lead and bones are buried for a treasure hunt everyday.
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Many thanks for sharing, Sally – and for the imagery of where Danny is now ❤
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This is true … shortly after he died, Danny came to one of my neighbors in a dream. He sat on the dock outside her boat and told her to tell me that he was all right. My neighbor said that the feeling was so real, she knew it to be Danny.
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Who cannot like what Danny writes?! A Delight!
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As I said below, “He was a pisser.” Meaning, he was “something else.”
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That Danny had a way with words. Thanks for the replay.
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Writing the Danny stories was the easiest thing I ever did. They were so him. After a while, I started to believe that he wrote them. I once asked him, “How do you write this stuff?” He gave me a smile instead of an answer. The smile said, “Wouldn’t you like to know.:
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I’m not surprised, remembering some of the photos. He had a knowing look.
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A lovely story about Danny. He behaved just like a naughty child.
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Danny was his own man … I mean dog. He wasn’t into dog stuff like chasing balls or sticks … things like that. He liked hanging out with the guys … more so than I did.
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Bittersweet memory (emphasis on sweet). And a beautiful photo of our beloved Danny. ❤
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Yeah, Danny was a looker alright. That’s why he got all the girls.
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Always liked Danny stories. This was a good one. My Lucy pulls the same stuff on the beach and I’m a lot older than Andrew.
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After they were published (posted) I used to read the Danny stories as he lay at my feet. I would read them as though I had not written them. Sometimes I would smile at something he said (I did put his personality into every story), and I would turn to him and say, “”You’re a pisser, Danny!”
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A great memory. Thanks for sharing. When my Silky Terrier passed it took me a year before I could write about her.
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Grand. A memory worth keeping of a good friend. Hugs
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I miss the son-of-a bitch every day.
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Yes. I am glad you have the memories and stories. You have been through enough in your life, and for a while you had him to give love and comfort. A friend. Perhaps one day when it is the right time you will find another who needs you as much as you need them again. I hope the day comes soon. Best wishes always. Hugs
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