Today I sent Finding Solace (Lost Solace 5) to my editor. It has been a long time coming, but I wanted to keep working on this book until it was amazing. I think I've done that, with a rich story that takes Lost Solace to a thrilling conclusion. It's another big book, almost 100,000 words. Some stores will let you pre-order the e-book, ready for the June 1st release date. There are also discounts on some of the other Lost Solace books this week.

Thanks to everyone who leaves reviews for these books - I always read them. This is one I found recently on Apple Books, which made me smile:

Dylan

Last time I wrote about Dylan's struggles.

I want to say some words about Dylan. He isn't with us any more. He'd not let his lust for life be ruined by epilepsy or arthritis, but after a brave struggle his kidneys eventually failed him and we had to make the truly awful choice to prevent him from suffering.

He was my friend. Every morning was better for having seen him, when he'd greet me with excitement. Every evening was nicer for giving him a fuss and his suppertime chewie, and maybe letting him chase me around the settee. Seeing him plod around his garden made me happy.

He had a great sense of humour, bordering on the silly and whimsical (whereas Dolly's is more of a dry humour). He made me laugh, and he was happy in return.

He taught me a lot. Especially about the importance of finding what you like in life, and savouring it. How each moment should be treasured, and life is more for living than worrying. Life is short. I'd give anything to have him with us longer, as long as he was happy and not suffering.

We held him at the end, and he was brave then, too. More than I would be.

When you lose someone you love, you then regret every time when you were impatient, because suddenly each moment becomes precious. Try not to be impatient with those you love. And always take the time for those in your care. You are their whole life. They don't ask for much apart from love and patience in return. Always give it.

I buried him in the garden, in a quiet corner where he'd walk every day. We made a raised flower bed above him and planted flowers that will spread, and are good for bees and butterflies, so there will be beauty and life, which is how I think of him.

I'm still going to talk to him. I still love him just as much. He's alive in my mind with love and good memories that make me smile. Everyone who got to knew him fell in love with him. He deserves that acknowledgement. In many ways grief is a private thing, and yet we shouldn't be afraid to talk about those who mean so much to us. Let them know it during life - that's the most important - but even after death that continues. We must learn the lessons those that love us bestow. Losing him is like losing a part of myself, just as it is for everyone else close to him. That's what love is. You never move on, because that would mean leaving someone behind, and that's never the case where love existed. But they're still alive in you, which is one of the few things we can say with certainty about what happens next. So, just, please be kind, patient, respectful and loving. To yourself and to others. (Particularly to others.) I'm sure Dylan would endorse that message, and then get all excited about going for a walk (and get even more excited on the return home, when he'd speed up just because running is also fun). Possessions mean nothing compared to living connections, something our culture often forgets.

Let me tell you a story about Dylan. He was six when we took him in. I don't think he'd had a good life before that. He would flinch at some movements nearby. We think he'd been attacked by a dog once. And he came to us with no bed, no toys. In fact, he didn't know how to play when we first got a toy for him. But he learnt. He came to love playing. He came to trust us with his life. He didn't let that bad start deter him, didn't give in to fear. No, he overcame it, and showed us how resilient it is possible to be. Doesn't matter if you're small, or have epilepsy, or have slightly dodgy hips meaning a hop-skip walk when he was going fast in excitement. None of that matters. His heart was bigger than his frame, and his spirit was giant. In terms of love, he wasn't a little dog, but huge.

Thanks for reading,

Karl

If you're so inclined, have a look at my books, or join me on Discord for a chat. You can also reply to this email if you want to contact me.

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Movie Projections & Mind Benders

July: Bad Backs And New Books

June: Green Potentials And Blue Meanies

Onwards And Upwards

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