Tagged: sci-fi


I’m Jelly. I belong to Author E. J. Deen. Or, rather, E. J. Deen belongs to me.

Hi! My name is Jelly. I’m a purebred miniature Schnauzer, although my human mom says that the purebred part doesn’t matter, because it’s the heart of someone that counts. I’ve been with my human mom and dad since I was eight weeks old, and, boy, what a life I have! I couldn’t have picked better humans! My mom is a writer and empowerment coach, (she’s the author E. J. Deen, but that’s only one of her pseudonyms) and my dad is an all around genius. He can do anything. He can build anything from houses to boats to campers to rockets, although the last rocket he built went haywire and almost hit mom in the face when it launched. Dad is an artist, he can write, invent, design websites, and he even built mom a guitar. He’s really awesome.


This is Mooch! Isn’t she beautiful!

When I first came to live with my human mom and dad, they already had a dog. Her name was Mooch. Mooch was the greatest dog that ever lived. I know everyone says that, but she really was. She loved everything and everyone. She was gentle, sweet, and super smart. I loved Mooch. In fact, Mooch is the only other dog I ever tolerated. I loved to stick my head in Mooch’s mouth. I don’t know why, I just did. And Mooch always let me. She never bit me, never even played rough with me. She just tolerated all my shenanigans.

Hey, you wanna hear a funny story about Mooch? Mooch was afraid of the sounds that came out of her butt. When she was a puppy and mom was potty training her, Mooch was pooping one day, and a sound came out of her butt. Mom says Mooch jumped out of her skin and started to run away from the sound, but she was still pooping, so she was hunched over trying to poop and trying to run away from her own butt at the same time. Mom was laughing hysterically, but when she realized how terrified Mooch was, she had to run across the yard to try and comfort her. As old as she got, Mooch never did understand those strange sounds that sometimes came out of her butt. But if mom comforted her, Mooch had to trust it, because mom always does the right thing by us. Me, I’m not scared of my farts. In fact, I’m proud of them. Mom says that for a small dog, my gaseous anomalies are downright nuclear. I can clear a room in a split second. I leave her gagging plenty. It’s funny, really. Because whenever I gas mom, she says the funniest things.

But I digress. Back to Mooch. When Mooch was six months old, she found a toad on the back porch. She treated the toad like it was her best friend and tried to coax it to play with her. She lay down in front of the toad so that her nose was just a few inches from the toad’s nose, and then woofed really gently. Then she got up and ran around the toad about ten times in a row, then lay back down again to stare hopefully at the toad. That silly old toad never did play with Mooch, and mom had to explain that the toad did not understand dog language and that one day she would find a playmate for Mooch. (That was me.) And then there was Mooch’s birthday ritual. Mom’s birthday, that is. Every year on the day of mom’s birth, while mom prepared for family to arrive to share birthday cake with us, dad would let us out to potty in our big back yard. While dad was staring at the sky (he does that a lot), Mooch would find some raccoon poop and roll in it. So, every birthday, mom or dad had to wash raccoon poop off Mooch right before family arrived. You should have heard mom screech every time she realized Mooch was in the yard rolling in raccoon poop. Mom swears like a trucker, but that’s probably because she did drive a tractor-trailer in her youth. Shhh! No one is supposed to know that, so don’t tell anyone, okay.

When dad had cancer surgery, mom told Mooch to stay in bed next to dad to give him comfort when she had to go to work. Mom felt a whole lot better with Mooch protecting dad when he was so sick, and Mooch did a great job keeping an eye on him. (That was before I arrived in the house. And just for the record, I’m pretty good at lending comfort too.) When dad had to go to the hospital for ten days, Mooch didn’t eat or drink for three days. No matter how hard mom tried to get Mooch to drink, Mooch refused. Until the third night…she finally drank, and then slowly began to eat. Mom kept telling Mooch that dad was coming home soon, and Mooch just had to trust her on that.

The four of us traveled together until I was four, and then Mooch died at the age of fourteen. Mom was so devastated. She cried until her eyes swelled shut, and she stayed in bed for days. She could hardly talk or eat. I stayed close to her, because I knew exactly how she felt. I was so upset when Mooch died that I grieved for a whole year. I couldn’t imagine life without her. But mom and dad made sure I was loved through the whole thing, and I finally got back into the swing of life.


This is the mug that usually greets mom in the morning. I love her pillow!

I get a lot of love. I sleep in bed with mom and dad. I like to be close to them, so I take turns pressing close. One night, I tuck up close to mom, the next night, I tuck up close to dad. They say a great divide formed between them when I arrived. That’s because I sleep in the middle of the bed, and they have to sleep on the outer edges. Sometimes mom only has about six inches of bed to sleep on. I also hog the blankets. Mom loves me so much that she rarely disturbs me. I think that’s pretty cool, but dad thinks it’s silly.

Mom and dad are both very caring people, and they both love animals. I get a lot of love and attention. I’m high energy, so sometimes I annoy mom when she’s writing. And every morning she has to struggle to stretch her arms over me to reach her keyboard, because I insist on sitting in her lap. Sometimes, I just sit and gaze into her face while she is writing. She says it slows her down, but I know she loves it.

Mom says I am bossy, but I prefer to call it persuasive. I know mom can read my mind, so sometimes all it takes is a certain look from me, and she knows just what I need. Mom is one of the most compassionate humans on Earth, so I know she will always do the right thing for me. I can read mom’s mind too. Mom trained me to sit, to stay, to high five, to give her a hug, to bark when she wants to know if I love her, and to go get dad on the other side of the house when she needs him. I love doing that! But when dad is on his computer, it takes awhile before he listens to me, so I have to be persistent and grumble at him very firmly before he steps away from his computer and follows me back to mom. Once on a really long hike, mom wasn’t feeling so well, and she stopped to rest while me and dad went on ahead to see the waterfall we were trying to find. I didn’t like that one bit. Soon as I got off the leash, I ran back to find mom. Turns out, that was a good thing, because we were really deep in the woods, and mom was getting scared about being alone out there. She was so happy to see me when I found her, and that made me feel excellent.


See, I’m always sitting in mom’s lap. She prefers not to let me do the driving.

I love to chase my pink soft frisbee. I love to ride in the car with mom and dad wherever they go. But my favorite thing in the world is hiking in the mountains with my mom and dad. I love streams, waterfalls, and peaks. I always know when we have a destination in mind. I can just sense it. And I can’t wait to get to the top of the mountain at the end of whatever trail we are on, because mom and dad will sit down to enjoy the view. No matter where mom is, whether she is sitting on a rock, on a park bench, or on the ground, I am sitting on her lap. Sometimes, I try to sit on her lap before she even gets her butt down. Best of all, they always share their chicken sandwich with me when we stop for lunch on our long hikes. It’s beautiful here in the mountains. I’ve crossed many streams, seen many views, and traveled many trails through sunshine, rain, and even snow. And that’s what this blog is all about…I am going to share my life with you and take you on our adventures. I hope you like it!

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See you on the trails!

So, there you have it! Remember…I’m Jelly. And if you see me on a trail somewhere in America, stop and say hello.

Be sure to visit my blog often for more travels and adventures!


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