I wanted to like this cozy mystery, but I'm afraid it wasn't meant to be. Geri Sullivan is a down-on-her-luck interior decorator in Seattle. She's looking for a job to supplement her income, and she's just adopted a chihuahua from a local shelter. No sooner does she get the dog in her car than he speaks to her in English and Spanish. Now ... I realize that this is the hook for this particular book, but she reacts like it's a normal occurance for a dog to speak. She's not described as some kind of psychic or "dog whisperer" or anything that would explain why she can hear/understand her dog. She just accepts it and begins having full-blown conversations with her dog in front of anyone who happens to be within hearing distance. To be fair, the other people act confused, like she's making oddball comments to them, but she isn't fazed in the least. At first, the talking dog was kinda cute, and I thought I could overlook the anomaly of her acceptance. But after 40 or 50 pages, the cute started to wear thin. The remaining cast of characters were either obnoxious or pathetic - not a sympathetic one in the bunch. The mystery was just out-and-out confusing ... with things happening for no apparent reason - the scenes didn't seem to flow naturally from one to the next.

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