I’m Hercules, big name, little dog—Chihuahua/Terrier to be precise. That wasn’t always my name but after my first owner got rid of me through a car window, I launched myself wholeheartedly into working with this wonderful lady I call Big Gal that I met in the park and who right away named me Hercules, after a mighty man. She’s a no-nonsense kind of big lady, ex-roller derby gal, so you know she’s one of those tough go-getter kinds. She has the same color hair that I have, too.
Our first time together, minutes after she shares her delicious gourmet hamburger with me in the park, she gets shot but that doesn’t stop her. I was still hard-pressed to keep up to her as we followed our first lead in a case she was on. She isn’t exactly thrilled to have me along so I have to keep showing her that I’m worthy of being her friend and partner in this private investigating work she does. I like being a Dog P.I., and I soon know my big-ears come in handy, as does my keen sense of smell; I can hear both sides of her telephone conversations and I can sniff out a sleep chemical called chloroform which figures strong in The Case of the Duffle Bag Kids.
I understand human talk pretty good but it’s frustrating that the humans don’t believe that; they can’t understand me when I try to tell them something either, but that’s the way of it. I do my best, which is why I decided to tell you all about this Hercules and Big Bertha Mystery, so you know I’m capable of being Big Bertha Kowolski’s partner in the P.I. business. Hope you agree!
