I'm very happy to welcome romance author, Celia Yeary, a member of the wonderfully supportive egroup, Book Spa Friends. Celia is not only a talented author, but also goes out of her way to share her time and talent with others.
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Celia Yeary
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Celia Yeary is a seventh-generation Texan, and her life revolves around family, friends, and writing. San Marcos has been her home for thirty-five years. She has five published romance novels, five “coming soon” novels, short stories in anthologies, articles, and essays with a local magazine. The author is a former science teacher, graduate of Texas Tech University and Texas State University, mother of two, grandmother of three, and wife of a wonderful, supportive Texan. Celia and her husband enjoy traveling, and both are involved in their church, the community, and the university.
http://sweetheartsofthewest.blogspot.com/
Buy Link for Celia's Latest Release,
Texas Promise,
an historical, sensual e-book presented by
Desert Breeze Publishing, Inc.
Book One of The Cameron Sisters Series
What it's about:
After two years, Jo King’s life as a widow abruptly ends when her husband returns home to Austin. Unable to understand her angry and bitter husband, she accepts a call from the New Mexico Territory to meet her dying birth father whom she knows nothing about. Her plan to escape her husband goes awry when he demands to travel with her.
Dalton King, believing lies his Texas Ranger partner tells him about Jo, seethes with hatred toward his wife. Now he must protect Jo from his partner’s twisted mind, while sorting out the truth. Jo’s bravery and loyalty convince him she’s innocent. But can they regain the love and respect they once shared?
Since Celia is a fellow animal lover like I am, and the dog part of this blog has been neglected for a while, Celia has agreed to pitch in and share memories of her precious dog, Poco. You may want to grab a handkerchief before reading.
Poor, Pitiful, Puppy by Celia Yeary
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| Poco |
In the seventies, my husband took a temporary teaching position as a professor at New Mexico Highlands University, Las Vegas, New Mexico.
Our daughter began fourth grade and our son entered first. The elementary school was only about ten blocks away, but my husband drove them to school in the mornings. Since he arrived home in the afternoons before I did, he left the car at home, walked to the school, collected the kids, and the three of them took a shortcut home through an alley.
One day, they came home with a very cold wet puppy.
"Look what we have, Mommy!" The kids were jumping around while my husband stood there, looking sheepish, with the puppy shivering in his arms.
A dog? Oh, no, I thought. We'd lost two back in Texas due to unfortunate circumstances, and I did not want to cope with that again. Plus, this puppy had…something odd about it.
"Wherever you got that puppy, take it back right now," I said. "She's filthy. And what's wrong with her left eye and her right ear? I don't want a dog. Most of the training would fall to me."
A chorus of pleas went up from the three.
"Look, Mommy," Daughter said, "she has pretty white fur, and when we give her a bath, she'll be white as snow. Isn't she cute.?"
Son joined in, "I like her. But she's shaking so hard she can't stop. I think she's cold."
I studied the puppy. "Or maybe she's frightened. Okay, honey," I said to my husband, "where did you get her?"
He said the puppy lived in an unkempt fenced yard. Every day when they walked down the alley past the house, the puppy toddled to the fence, jumped up on it, whining and crying just like a baby. There was no doghouse, no shelter for her, and part of the yard was muddy--cold, freezing mud, at that. Bottom line, the owner was guilty of neglect. Her right ear looked permanently bent backwards. Her right eye had no pigment around it, and it appeared infected, all red and oozing…something.
On this day, as they walked past, a man stood in the yard. My three heroes stopped and my husband called to him, asking what was wrong with the puppy's eye. The man said he had no idea, that the puppy belonged to his wife who had left, and he had no reason to keep a pet.
So they asked for her. The man gave her up in a flash.
We named her Poco, since we lived in New Mexico and we thought that meant "little" or something close. We rejected the name Princess, as well as Snowball, and Snowflake.
Two cats joined Poco in the near future, and now we had three pets when I wanted none. Even though all three were great pets, little Poco--she never grew very big--was the most precious dog in the world. We ended up back in Texas, and everyone's pets ran free--and so did ours. They came in and out of the house whenever they wanted. We took good care of them, because each one lived to the age of sixteen or seventeen. For years, our veterinarian costs were greater than our pediatrician's.
Everyone in the neighborhood loved Poco. She loved to be petted, adored attention, but never approached a human unless coaxed. Any little noise or sharp voice terrified her and she would shake her little self silly. During thunderstorms and fireworks, I'd get her quilt, wrap her up tightly, and hold her in my lap, because she could not stop trembling.
The veterinarian said she had cancer in her eye, but thought it would be best to leave it alone. I bathed it and tried to keep it dry, and it never seemed to bother her. The bent ear turned straight as she grew. She turned out to be a pretty little thing.
She died at age seventeen. Just laid down in the yard, closed her eyes, and stopped breathing. Bless her sweet heart, our little Poco.
Thank you, Morgan.
Celia Yeary - Romance...and a little bit 'o Texas
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