I never intended to become a dog person, until my future wife decided she’d prefer to have a puppy in lieu of an engagement ring. And now I can’t imagine my life without my little sonofabitchbastard. So maybe I was a little more suckered in by this procedural of a damaged patrolman and a damaged Marine dog healing one another’s scars as they solve a murder. It’s a better version of James Rollins’ Tucker Wayne series, but not quite as amazing as Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch, though I’d recommend it fans of both.
And also, CANNONBALL, MOTHERFUCKER. WOOOOOOO!
Happy Cannonball!
Congrats on the Cannonball!!!
Yay!! Cannonball! Also, I guess I said it out loud because now my 2 year old is yelling it
Congrats!
Cheers to you on your Cannonball!
Congrats to you (and I’m adding yet another book to my to-read list).
Thank you all kindly! And yes, the proper announcement of a Cannonball should always be shouted by a toddler or loudly bellowed like Ozzy singing “ALL ABOARD” in the beginning of Crazy Train. So imagine me doing that, but riding a The More You Know rainbow-star like Slim Pickens in Dr. Strangelove.
Done and done :)