Rogan in his Petfinder photo
Greg Kincaid is the author of A Dog Named Christmas, a novel about the power of pet adoption. He has been blogging for Petfinder about his and his wife's quest to adopt the perfect dog. Read all his posts here. I know I'm supposed to be writing about the Dog Wars, but I have to take a mid-week hiatus while the combatants reload.
It's very exciting to see A Dog Named Christmas listed this week as the "On the Rise" selection by the American Book Seller's Association for hardcover fiction. But something else happened recently that reminded me that the real power of the book lurks behind those numbers.
I was at a book signing at Watermark Books in Wichita. The signing started at 7:00 p.m., and around 6:30, Barbara and Jack from Lifeline Animal Placement and Protection, Inc., showed up with three dogs in need of homes. We had decided that, because of the strong rescue theme in the book, public events would be a great opportunity to also plug Petfinder and animal rescue. And what better way to promote adoption than with adoptable dogs?
Jack and Barbara had three dogs with them. One was a small terrier-spaniel mix. The second was a miniature-poodle mix, and the third dog was very large standard poodle named Rogan. Rogan was beautiful and clearly had more charisma than any man or beast could demand. His picture really does not begin to capture his rather regal bearing.
Barbara told us that Rogan was
in the shelter as result of a death in his home. Rogan and his pals politely waited
as patrons gathered in a space that Watermark Books had reserved for us. Most patted the dogs on the head, said hello,
and found a chair.
One of the first to arrive was a shy man, in worn polyester pants and a gray tweed hat. He was slim, quiet and had sunken-in brown eyes that suggested their own sadness. He sat in the front row, and I noticed that Rogan rested his head on the gentlemen's lap and never left the entire evening.
I spent the next 40 minutes talking about how the book came about and the publication process. I answered questions and then signed books. It was a very friendly crowd and I had a great time.
When we were finishing up, I heard two guests talking.
"How fun!"
"Yeah, and a dog got adopted too."
I looked up and asked, "What?"
"One of the dogs was adopted."
"Which one?" I asked.
"Rogan, by the older gentleman."
I can't remember when I felt happier. I'm still hoping for the Bestseller's List, but if I don't make it, that moment was worth the entire journey.
[Editor's note: Pat Morriss, director of Lifeline Animal Placement, reports that Rogan is very happy in his new home. His adopters' beloved dog had died a few months ago, and they were grieving that loss when they met Rogan. "He picked us," they told Pat.]
One of the first to arrive was a shy man, in worn polyester pants and a gray tweed hat. He was slim, quiet and had sunken-in brown eyes that suggested their own sadness. He sat in the front row, and I noticed that Rogan rested his head on the gentlemen's lap and never left the entire evening.
I spent the next 40 minutes talking about how the book came about and the publication process. I answered questions and then signed books. It was a very friendly crowd and I had a great time.
When we were finishing up, I heard two guests talking.
"How fun!"
"Yeah, and a dog got adopted too."
I looked up and asked, "What?"
"One of the dogs was adopted."
"Which one?" I asked.
"Rogan, by the older gentleman."
I can't remember when I felt happier. I'm still hoping for the Bestseller's List, but if I don't make it, that moment was worth the entire journey.
[Editor's note: Pat Morriss, director of Lifeline Animal Placement, reports that Rogan is very happy in his new home. His adopters' beloved dog had died a few months ago, and they were grieving that loss when they met Rogan. "He picked us," they told Pat.]
