This month I’m guest blogging about—you guessed it: Henry—over at award-winning author Mesu Andrews’s blog. She writes great Biblical fiction, AND she loves dogs. Hop over to see how Henry tried to kill himself (again) and what that turned out to mean for the New Year. Here’s how the story starts…

I’m doing yard work when my hubby sticks his head out the window and tells me his big ball of bread dough rising on the counter has disappeared.

This is alarming on two levels. One, Alan was making the dough into our very most favoritist dinner rolls ever, and I REALLY wanted some. (I trim the hedges, Alan bakes. This is the kind of marriage we have. Don’t judge me.)

The second issue, far more troubling, is that when bulk food items mysteriously disappear in our house, it’s because our dog Henry made off with them.

Somehow I still feel the need to check the bread board myself, like Alan can mistake whether a cantaloupe-sized ball of dough is gone or not.

It’s gone.

Which means that for who knows how long now, Henry’s had dough for two-dozen dinner rolls rising in his nice warm belly. Can a stomach rupture?

(Click here to read the rest)


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