Oscar the Dog
In my Armstrong and Oscar murder mysteries, there are two main protagonists – a man and a dog, dan and Oscar. Oscar is my homage to Merlin, our old black Labrador. He was without doubt (and I totally refuse to accept any argument on this) the bestest dog in the whole wide world.
Many of Oscar’s traits in the Armstrong and Oscar cozy mystery series come straight from Merlin and his yellow predecessor, Goldie.
As all Labrador owners must know, labs will happily eat until they explode. Apparently scientists have found some kind of gene abnormality to explain this but, whatever the reason, food is always uppermost in the minds of most labs, and Oscar is no exception.
When we first got Merlin, he was an abused child. He had been very poorly treated by his first owner, and he arrived with us half starved. After such appalling treatment he could have turned into a ravening monster, determined to take revenge on the whole of the human race. Instead, he became a close companion, a real friend, and a fully paid up member of the family. However, in his first weeks with us, he used to steal food from the table or the kitchen worktops – and given his past, who could blame him? This behaviour came to an end in an interesting way.
We had installed a dogflap, a doggie door, so that the labs could come and go to and from the garden as they wished, and this was installed in the back door leading from the kitchen. One day we heard a crash and were confronted by the sight of Merlin standing just outside the doggie door with a puzzled expression on his face. In his mouth was the middle section of a long French stick, a baguette. Unseen by us, he had nicked the loaf from the worktop and run out into the garden with it in his mouth. Although the dog flap was easily wide enough for him to get through normally (in fact I went through it myself once after I forgot my keys) Merlin hadn’t taken account of the loaf in his mouth. As a result, there were two neat pieces of bread inside the dog flap where they had broken off and he was left with just the middle section and a dazed expression on his face as the realisation dawned on him that maybe stealing food wasn’t a good idea after all. Oscar loves his food but he, too, has learned not to steal – beg, yes, but not steal. Instead, he has mastered the art of giving the impression that he is about to succumb to starvation. Dan has now learnt how to harden his heart but it still works with the unwary.
And then there were squirrels. Neither of our dogs ever caught a squirrel, but these furry pests were definitely their Public Enemy Number One. A peaceful walk in the woods could suddenly erupt into paroxysms of barking if the normally quiet and well-behaved Merlin located one of his sworn enemies. Oscar shares this trait with them.
Labradors don’t do a lot of talking, but they are very good listeners. My wife often accuses me of not listening to her, but this wasn’t the case for Merlin. He would lie on the floor with one eye open, his ears occasionally twitching, as he listened to us humans as we discussed our cares and woes. I’m sure Merlin would have made a wonderful therapy dog – and Oscar has inherited this characteristic. Just like Merlin, Oscar can sense people’s moods, and he is only too happy to provide some canine support where necessary.
Above all, Merlin was a friend and a companion and, as far as Dan Armstrong is concerned, Oscar is definitely his best buddy. Those of you with dogs of your own will know exactly what I’m talking about.
Get your copy of Murder at the Ponte Vecchio here and meet Oscar yourself: https://mybook.to/murderpontevecchio