Oh The Weather Outside is Frighful
At snoopy.com you can poke around the site and find info on all the characters, read some Snoopy comics, and even vote on a poll or two. (I voted on the one that asked who I thought would eat the most at Thanksgiving. Turns out Peppermint Patty has the most votes so far!)
Just for fun, I'm going to post a little blip from my book, Being Me is Harder Than it Looks. And just so that you won't get confused, the story is in the perspective of a 6th grader named Minnesota Albuquerque. She's recalling when she got Pizza, her Bichon Frise puppy from the animal shelter. Note: This part of the story may be changed later, so don't count on this as the final draft. Thank you.
When we went to adopt him from the animal shelter, there was a lady with the humongous, unnaturally red hair at the counter talking loudly on the phone. My dad had to clear his throat more than twice to get her attention, and even then she seemed distracted. She smiled with her blindingly bleach white teeth when I asked her if she had any cute yittle puppies in the store. (I was pretty much six years old at the time, so don't laugh.) Bending down to my eye level, she said that if I wanted, she could take me to see all of the cute puppies. I of course nodded enthusiastically and scampered after her like a . . . well . . . puppy.
The room was so loud. Dogs and puppies, big and small, fluffy and bald. My eyes bugged out when I walked in, and I pressed my nose up to all the wired cages, taking care not to get bitten. Then I saw the dog. I tugged on my mom's sleeve.
“I want that one,” I said urgently, as though he might get taken away any moment. She smiled, and tapped the red haired lady on the shoulder, pointing at the little white puppy. The lady opened his cage and he yawned, his little pink tongue sticking out from his mouth. She set him gently in my arms and asked me if this was the puppy I wanted. I burst into tears. I couldn't help it. I knew deep down in my heart that no other puppy would do. Grinning, the lady ran off to grab some papers for my parents to sign. When she returned armed with a gold pen, she told us a little about his personality. She said that somehow he had figured out how to open his cage using his nose or paws or something like that, and then at lunch time he'd go and beseech food from only the employees that had pizza for lunch—none of the others. Even if one of them had a succulent steak or some juicy meatballs, he only wanted the warm, cheesy pizza. Nothing but that gooey pizza. If they tried to coax him to try some thin little noodles or his lamb and rice kibble, he would practically roll his little eyes at that person, snorting in scorn at being told to eat dog food. He's a surprisingly a dog that actually has expressions and can show them at any time he chooses. It's kind of weird and slightly evil.
My parents signed the papers, and the lady said that we should give him a name so that we'll be able to get him an appointment at the vet's office. I decided right then and there that I wanted his name to be Pizza, all because of that little story. My mom tried to persuade me into naming him Socks since after we brought him home he concluded that stealing Mom's socks was the funnest thing since Chef Boyardee dog bone chewies. But I put my foot down on this one. No other name would do.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed that! I just might bring in more characters for interviews, or some other bits of my story if anyone would like me to. Send me an email or leave a comment if you'd like that please.
Keep reading and writing!
~Seana
LOVE PIZZA. LOVE DOGS. LOVE YOU.
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