Thinkingdog Publishing

Hello, world. It’s me. Buddy. Yes— that Buddy . The suave, sophisticated, velvet-eared Papillon who just waltzed into this family like a tiny, handsome hurricane of charm. Tonight is my very first night here, and I’m typing this up on Mommy’s laptop while she thinks I’m “settling in.” Little does she know I’m already preparing my memoirs. You know, for future bestseller status. I live with an author now, so I’m basically obligated. Earlier today, I was feeling a bit lost. I won’t sugarcoat it—losing your family is hard. One minute you’re somewhere familiar, and the next you’re blinking in a brand-new world wondering where the cheese treats are. But then… everything shifted. I landed here. In this warm house. With soft lighting and blankets that smell like dryer sheets and hope. And suddenly, somehow, I wasn’t lost anymore. Let me introduce my new siblings. Kobe is fifteen and has the calm energy of a retired detective in a cozy mystery who has seen everything and just wants his di...

Why I Escape to a Cabin With No Wifi (And Maybe You Should Too) So… why do I disappear into the wilds of the canadian North with no Wi-Fi, questionable plumbing, and a fridge that sounds like it’s crying at night? Because it’s the only place I actually relax. Yes, I know, you can technically relax anywhere. A spa, a beach, your own backyard hammock with a pink drink and a book about Scandinavian murders. But here’s the catch: I don’t. When I have ten minutes of peace in my regular life, my brain goes, “Oooh, time to spiral!” Suddenly I’m obsessing over Chapter 4 and why it still reads like it was written by a caffeinated octopus. Or I remember that the audio edits on my last audiobook were a smidge less than perfect, and maybe I should recheck that pause at the 47-minute mark. And by the way, did I ever respond to that email about the email about the podcast interview? I don’t relax. I rev . Blame it on my upbringing. I grew up in a German household, and let me tell you, asking...