There is a curious absence in my novels.

People drown. Nations fall. Spies double-cross each other on cold Parisian rooftops. Time itself bends just to make things difficult for everyone. Empires rise and then, quite rudely, collapse before I’ve finished the chapter.

But dogs?

No. Not really. Not often. And when they do appear, they tend to trot in, look endearingly loyal, and trot back out again before anyone notices.

This is odd because in real life I am absolutely a dog person. Completely. Irretrievably. If I were on a sinking ship (say, Titanic-shaped, purely hypothetically), and someone shouted:

“Save the valuables!”

I would scoop up the nearest spaniel and hope someone else grabbed my wallet.

So why do animals rarely appear in my books?

I suspect it’s because my stories involve espionage, war, tragic romance, or the slow disintegration of polite society. And unlike humans, animals do not deserve to suffer for narrative tension. They are innocent. Pure. Better than us in every measurable category except grammar.

Magda Asparov may manipulate half the shipping magnates of the Western world, but could she look a Labrador in the eye and lie? Not with that much confidence.

Jack Billings can climb out of Hell’s Kitchen and into the corrupt workings of the White Star Line…

 but a collie pup would undo him in seconds.

And Midnight, well, Jessie Fordham would absolutely re-route an entire covert operation if there was a cat asleep on the file.

Animals have a way of disarming us.

 They walk into a scene and suddenly every hardened killer, spy, or revolutionary looks like a confused parent holding a teething toddler.

Which brings me, conveniently, to the point of this blog:

I am running an experiment.

The image for this blog piece is of an extremely cute puppy. The kind of puppy that melts even the most frozen of hearts. The kind of puppy that makes even cynical internet trolls pause and say:

“Alright. That’s a good dog.”

The hypothesis:

If the internet sees this puppy, more people will read this post.

The secondary hypothesis:

If more people read this post, more people might discover The Brittle Saga, The Midnight Series, and all the other worlds I’ve been building, none of which currently contain puppies, but perhaps, after today, should.

If this works, then…

Dear readers, brace yourselves.

Because the next espionage thriller may feature a Basset Hound named Admiral Flap. Or a terrier who knows too much.

Or a pug who has seen the secrets of time.

No promises.

But no animals will be harmed.

Except possibly the humans and they’re much tougher anyway.

Copyright © Tom Kane November 2025