Nick Trout's Blog

Sorry for the late notification, but Harper Collins reached out to me to let me know 'The Wonder of Lost Causes' has been selected for an E-Book promotion, priced at just $1.99 through 6/1/2022. "Just sayin'" if you know of fellow book lovers who've been thinking about hanging out with Whistler!

Best wishes
Nick

Fifteen years ago, a talented editor at Random House took a chance on naive young wannabe writer, and saw potential in the non-fiction manuscript he was trying to pitch. This editor was Christine Pride, and the proposal turned into Tell Me Where It Hurts. Without Christine I would not have had an opportunity to share my stories, and for that I will be eternally grateful.
Interestingly, Christine has become an author herself, teaming up with Jo Piazza to write "We Are Not Like Them." The story centers around the lifelong friendship between Riley, a Black news anchor and her friend since childhood, Jen. As the novel opens, Riley has just moved back to Philadelphia where they grew up, and Jen is pregnant with her first child after years of trying. The two friends are excited to live in the same city and reconnect and then Jen's husband's Kevin, a white police officer, is involved in the shooting of an unarmed Black teenager. This tragedy forces the friends into a painful reckoning with serious stakes for their relationship and their own lives.
Christine has a gift for words - she has consistently made me look far better than I deserve - and I have no doubt that her book will be an enormous success. I wish I had been able to keep the voice mail she left me (pre-iphone days) letting me know I had made it onto the New York Times Bestseller list. Hopefully I'll get to return the sentiment!
'We Are Not Like Them' comes out next Tuesday, October 5th.

I just wanted to share the news of a great Harper Collins promotion called "Dog Days Of Summer" in which they are promoting the eBook version of The Wonder of Lost Causes. From 7/26 through 9/6 the electronic edition is available for the discount price of $1.99!!! Time to buy a kindle!

Cheers
Nick

I wanted to wish everyone a Happy New Year and, if possible, encourage anyone who follows my writing to sign up for my e-newsletter through my web site: www.drnicktrout.com.
Here's a snippet from the latest update.

A New Disease?

Bella was a skinny, yet feisty, five-month-old chocolate Labrador puppy, doing what Lab pups do best—eating—and in this case, eating something she should not.
She presented with a classic abdominal obstruction, something stuck in her stomach, something stuck in her small intestine. Not much to think about, poor Bella was in discomfort and unable to keep food and water down. Surgery was the only solution.
For a dog of this age, and breed (and I say this with all due respect to Labradors, because, as I type this, I can pat the one asleep at my feet), taste doesn’t really come into the equation. Motivation is frequently no more complicated than “it was there so I ate eat!” Yet I took the opportunity to review the series of x-rays that committed young Bella to a date with me in the operating room.
“Pretty sure I know what she’s swallowed,” I bragged to the anesthesia technician while draping off Bella’s shaved and sterile belly, prior to making my opening incision. “The x-rays show two distinct metallic lines, like wire, one standing straight up, presumably in the stomach, the other laying lengthwise, presumably in the duodenum. I’m betting on an underwire bra that Bella has chewed into two pieces.”
To me, it seemed like a reasonable guess. The metallic strands were the conundrum and far more interesting than a partially digested corn cob, sports sock, or Christmas ribbon. Secretly I imagined a conversation that might ensue if Bella belonged to a young, newly married couple. With the surgery complete, Bella resting comfortably, I would make my phone call to the owners, happy for husband and wife to talk to me on speakerphone as I clarified that naughty Bella had swallowed one of ‘mom’s’ Victoria Secret’s bras, only for the wife to go silent before declaring that she never shops at that particular store!
Fortunately, my reverie never came to fruition. My incision into Bella’s stomach revealed an object that initially fit the bill—cloth, string, wire—and I thought, darn it, not a bra, but a bikini top. And then I realized my mistake. How could I forget we were living in the time of Covid? This wasn’t a bra; this was a cloth mask—wire for the bridge of the nose and string to secure it in place. In fact, it wasn’t just one cloth mask, it was two.
Thankfully Bella made that wonderfully boring and uneventful recovery, and my discussion with the owners is one worth sharing, that disposable and cloth masks can pose a significant hazard to the well-being of our pets, not least those adorable canines who can be a little more food driven than most.

Up Next

If you’re wondering what’s happening with respect to my next writing project, it remains a work in progress. For a while, I had planned on a comparison between my version of veterinary medicine and that of the incomparable James Herriot. However, my agent felt this was a little too disjointed, anecdotes forced along in the absence of a narrative arc. That’s why I have switched to a different non-fiction project—the proposal is in the process of final tweaks prior to, hopefully, finding a publisher. I’m going to refrain from giving too much away at this point, but I’m happy to share the tentative title.

Sleeping Dogs Never Lie: Scandal, Humility, and Redemption in My Life as an Animal Surgeon.

As I am about to enter my thirteenth year of working with the publishing industry, the process remains no less fickle than when I pitched Tell Me Where It Hurts. With luck, in 2021, I’ll get a chance to share more of what will be my seventh book.

Before I finish, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all of you who have signed up for this newsletter, and the kind readers who follow me and my books on Goodreads and BookBub. The other day it crossed my mind how strange my own book recommendations must appear to folks drawn to me because of a love for the human-animal bond. My apologies, but I confess, when I get to read, or listen to books on my commute to work, I crave an escape, and also an opportunity to learn writing techniques, pacing, use of dialogue, and character development. If I were a human surgeon, I hope you wouldn’t blame me for not reading the works of Atul Gawande (though he is an excellent writer).
Happy Holidays to all, and, from someone who have never been a fan of New Year, I can’t wait for 2021!
Cheers
Nick

It's been a while since I posted to Goodreads but I wanted to share two items. First, a short letter I wrote hoping to convey piece of mind for pet owners in this era of Covid 19.

I’ve been a veterinarian for over three decades. I know the power, the reach, and enduring impact of the animals in our lives.
“Pets devour loneliness. They give us purpose, responsibility, a reason for getting up in the morning, and a reason to look to the future. Pets are our seatbelt on the emotional rollercoaster of life—they can be trusted, they keep us safe, and they sure do smooth out the ride.”
I wrote this paragraph twelve years ago and, with all the necessary isolation created by ‘stay at home’ and social distancing, sharing time and space with an animal has rarely felt more vital and reassuring, especially for the elderly or those living alone. So what happens if your pet gets sick and needs medical attention in the era of Covid 19? How do you get the necessary veterinary care to sustain a bond that is, for many, the inspiration that keeps you in this fight?
In much the same way as human health care, animal doctors have been forced to cancel elective appointments and procedures, prioritizing their caseload to only those cases deemed ‘urgent’ or ‘emergent’. The Pomeranian with a broken front leg, the Siamese with a bleeding ear wound, these cases are urgent, in need of attention. Naturally the same holds true for the potentially life threatening emergencies of a Labrador who decides to swallow a teriyaki stick, or a French bulldog struggling to breathe. The trouble is, for every owner, any health related issue concerning your pet feels, at the very least, urgent. You are the ones we depend on to notice subtle behavioral changes that signal something is not right. Your gut feeling about a potential health problem matters. You are their confidante. You are their voice.
Veterinarians are still here for you, ready to listen to your pet’s best advocate, but for the safety of all our hospital staff, and you the pet owning public, my profession has been forced to choose which animals get seen, and which animals do not—a dilemma that goes against every strand in our DNA.
Be assured that we don’t take this responsibility lightly. We are not triaging against compassion. If you call our number, or visit our hospital, we still strive to make you and your pet feel better. It may be a matter of simply prescribing a medication. It may be words of reassurance and suggesting a period of “watchful waiting.” If we do need to put hands on your pet (gloved hands for now), it’s going to feel different but that doesn’t make it any less personal. Our communication will be over the phone and not face to face, and if we are new to you, we appreciate how this is a strange notion, trusting the health of a beloved family member to someone you might not know and cannot see. Your pet will be taken from you and examined behind closed doors. You may feel like you’re missing out on all the stuff that matters—reading your vet’s body language, watching how they handle your pet, seeing how your pet responds to them. The truth is everything has changed but nothing has changed. We still coo and dote, butt-scratch and ear rub, play and engage in our attempts to discover what’s wrong and how we can help. You may not be a witness, but I promise, when we talk again, you’ll know we get it, because that’s what we do.
Though there have been extremely rare, isolated cases of coronavirus positive tests in pets, it appears our cats and dogs do not have to worry about the clinical impact of Covid-19, or passing it on to those who care for them. Instead, these animals have to worry about the humans in their lives. This crisis will pass. Let’s make sure we are all here to share in their joy when it does.

Secondly, I wanted to mention that I was recently invited to join a book club Zoom meeting, as they were featuring my most recent book, The Wonder of Lost Causes. For me (and I hope for those who participated) it was a lot of fun. If any other book clubs plan to talk about one of my books during this lock down period, please let me know and I'd be happy to try to join in the discussion.
Stay safe and best wishes,
Nick

I felt compelled to say a big thank you to everyone who has read or is planning to read The Wonder of Lost Causes. I'm loving the 4.24 star rating and all the new readers who have decided to 'follow me'. With that in mind I would definitely encourage you to visit www.drnicktrout.com and sign up for my e-newsletter. I'm still working hard to increase awareness of Jasper, Kate and Whistler's story and I'm thrilled to see so many of you recommending the book to family and friends as a great read this summer.
By the way, if someone wants to vote The Wonder of Lost Causes onto a list other than 'book with boy on the cover' then you will make this author's day!
Best wishes to all.
Nick

Finally, some five years later, my latest novel, The Wonder of Lost Causes, hits the shelves. For any author, pub date is always a heady mixture of expectation, relief, and fear. The fear is not just about whether or not the reader enjoys the book, it's also about whether or not the reader even knows the book exists. Thus far, I have nothing to complain about, as you can see by clicking this link: https://nypost.com/2019/04/27/the-bes...
If you do enjoy the book, please let me know here and I'll try my best to weigh in on your comments.

All best,
Nick

I guess my e-newsletter is essentially a more structured form of a blog (at least for me). I thought I might post the first edition here, to share with followers and perhaps stir some interest. Do please sign up if it resonates.
By the way, many thanks to all the folks who entered the giveaway competitions and for all the wonderful feedback you are providing. Authors might swear up and down that they don't read reviews, but guess what, this one does!
Best

Nick

E-Newsletter 1

Welcome to the first of what I hope, time permitting, will be a monthly dose of pet related entertainment, education, and giveaways. If the stars align, I plan to:
a) Share a story from the frontlines of my work as a staff surgeon at the Angell Animal Medical Center, in Boston, Massachusetts.
b) Offer a little veterinary advice (sorry, but it’s not possible for me to do a Q&A format, even if I have seen your pet in person)
c) Provide updates on my new book, excerpts, insights, and the back-story to how The Wonder of Lost Causes came to be.

If you like what you read, feel free to share with a friend, have them sign up, and don’t miss out on following me through Goodreads and Bookbub, both fantastic sites for chances to win all sorts of freebies including advanced readers copies.
So, without further fanfare, let’s give this a shot!


Head Spin!


Not so long ago, I saw a young, handsome, German shepherd with a peculiar neurological problem, and this mysterious case reminded me why, in certain circumstances, writing fiction offers a far more interesting alternative to the professional trappings of writing non-fiction.
The dog—let’s call her Sasha—was sweet, gangly, and clumsy in that adorable way of all six-month-old puppies. Yet she had developed a disturbing tendency to permanently cant her head to the left.
“It’s been getting worse for the past few weeks,” said Laura, labeling herself as Sasha’s “Mom”. “But no one’s been able to find out what’s wrong.”
In her fifties, Laura wore jeans, a plaid shirt, no jewelry, no make-up, and when she first greeted me, I was struck both by the warmth of her hearty handshake, and the calloused, dry nature of her hands.
“And otherwise in good health,” I asked, noting Sasha’s eyes, pupil size, blink, facial ticks and twitches as I poked and pinched, trying to test the various facial nerves that may or may not be malfunctioning.
“Great,” said Laura. “Hangs out with me all day at work.”
I began inspecting oversized ears, those velvety shepherd cones, honing in on every sound, thanks to about eighteen unique and busy muscles pulling, twisting and adjusting the cartilage in every direction.
“And what do you do for a living,” I asked, shoving an otoscope down the vertical canal, catching a glimpse of a white, intact ear drum, before Sasha could pull away. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m a potter,” said Laura. “Sasha seems to love it when I work at the wheel.”
I thought nothing more of this declaration, focusing on my examination, unable to determine any obvious, visible reason for the way Sasha insisted on keeping her head tilted off to one side. It was as if she had slept wrong, a painful crick from a bad red-eye in coach, an ill wind that had blown too hard, frozen her in this awkward and troubling position.
Over the next few weeks, working in tandem with our neurologists, multiple tests were performed that yielded inconclusive results. The only upside to our failure to find a diagnosis was the fact that, through no specific recommendation or dispensing of a miracle cure, Sasha’s head tilt became less and less, slowly but surely returning to a posture of perfect balance and normalcy.
Several months later, I checked in with Laura in order to see if Sasha was continuing to do well.
“She’s great, like nothing happened, “ said Laura. “For a while there, I was convinced it was all my fault.”
“I’m not with you,” I said.
“My potter’s wheel. Sasha’s obsessed. Will watch me for hours when I’m throwing clay, and it got me to thinking, the way she gets mesmerized, hypnotized, following the spin, her head going round and round and round. I wondered if it was . . . like . . . freezing up her neck on the same side.”
I stifled a laugh, but went with, “I’m sure this has nothing to do with the wheel,” though I felt bad that I had not got her a solution, an answer that said, “put this behind you and worry no more.”
“I mean she’s still watching you make pots, right? And the head tilt is gone?”
“Yeah,”said Laura, but in her hesitation I heard, “but what if it comes back?”
I’m sure I said something reassuring, something to let her know that we had ruled out all the bad possibilities, and I could tell Laura took some measure of solace from this news, assuring me she would keep a close eye on Sasha and call if anything went awry. And when I hung up, I thought about this interesting case, wondering if it merited writing down as a story, concluding that the absence of a diagnosis presented a problem to the reader of a non-fictional case. Then I thought about this in the context of a fictional story, perhaps being investigated by a younger, more socially awkward veterinarian (perhaps like Dr. Cyrus Mills in my Bedside Manor series). Now, I could easily imagine what Dr. Mills might say while searching for a remedy to Sasha’s strange ailment.
“Not to worry,” he would tell Laura, “next time it happens, simply put the potter’s wheel in reverse and it should cure Sasha’s head tilt instantly!”




Joint Supplements

For the past twenty years joint supplements have become increasingly popular in veterinary medicine, and I am often asked my opinion on the merits of using them for a dog or not. Though there are a great many holistic treatments to improve joint quality, here I intend to focus on glucosamine hydrochloride, and chondroitin sulphate, since they are the most recommended by veterinarians to treat osteoarthritis. Here’s my take:
1) If I’m going to add a supplement, I need to prove there’s a problem which will benefit i.e. I want to prove my dog has joint arthritis or is going to get joint arthritis. X-rays are useful, demonstrating boney build up around a knee or an elbow, a poor fit between the ball and socket of a hip joint.
2) Ideally, get a sense of “before” and “after.” Make adding a supplement the only variable. Perhaps there is an activity that is known to be problematic. Re-challenge with this activity to see if it is better tolerated as an attempt to measure whether or not the supplement is working.
3) You need to give the supplement a chance, at least 4-6 weeks.
4) Know this, there is a lack of decent data in the veterinary literature supporting or condemning the use of joint supplements.
5) There are usually no adverse effects, except, over time, the cost of supplements add up, so it’s worth answering this question early on—is this supplement actually helping my dog? If yes, carry on. If uncertain or no, why bother?


Reference:
Glucosamine and chondroitin use in canines for osteoarthritis: A review
Bhathal et al; Open Vet J. 2017; 7(1): 36-49


Why did The Wonder of Lost Causes take so long to write?

Between 2008 and 2014, despite working full-time as a veterinary surgeon, I managed to publish five books (three works of non-fiction, two novels). So why have five years passed before finally getting to TWLC, coming out May 7th, 2019?
The answer is complicated and multifaceted, reflecting my personal life, professional life and writing life.

From a writing standpoint, I’m always buzzing with new ideas, a new project, long before a manuscript goes from the editorial stage to publication. By the beginning of 2015 I was on the verge of seeking a new book deal on a historical piece of non-fiction, my take on the ‘Judy’ story, the amazing, canine version of “Unbroken”, a WW2 dog that led an incredible life. Here’s an early draft of the proposal’s prologue:


As a ruthless equatorial sun came to the boil, the prisoner adjusted the bulky rice sack, its lumpy contents spilling around his raw neck and craggy narrow shoulders. Though the sack weighed less than forty pounds, time, heat and heart-hammering fear made him feel like a little boy struggling to carry a grown man from a burning building. It was June 1944, and while the world focused on the allied invasion of Normandy, the prisoner stood at the dockside of a bustling port on the northeast coast of Sumatra. Like the other seven hundred corralled and baking men, he had been allowed to carry what few personal belongings he still possessed.
Unlike them, his pack contained a priceless yet highly dangerous stowawaya fully-grown dog.
Hermetically sealed inside a dusty cocoon, this patient canine butterfly lacked a visible air hole. The slightest twitch, scratch or adjustment might give the game away. For both the prisoner and the dog ‘playing dead,’ the stakes could not have been higher. The order had been clear. Ship the men to Singapore but the dog must stay at the labor camp.
The prisoner never hesitated. If he left the starving animal behind, she would have been shot, vulturous guards eager to consume what remained of her body.
But if they discovered his attempt to take her with him, the prisoner and his dog faced certain and swift execution together.
Now they stood as one: sweating, silent, barely breathing. All around them men crumpled and collapsed, thoughts of shade and water an untenable mirage making the prisoner smack his split and blistered lips. The bag of bones grew heavier, the scrawny dog’s hips and shoulder blades grinding and rasping against his own chafed and sunburned skin. Hours slowed to a child’s version of time, until his prayers seemed to have been answered and the columns of other prisoners finally began shuffling toward the ship’s gangway. Then the crowd fell silent, the ranks parted, and into the void stepped a man more akin to a devil than a soldier: the Japanese Commandant.
Back at the camp, the Commandant had visibly lit up at the sight of the dog being tied up and abandoned, personally overseeing the methodical inspection of every bag and sack by his soldiers. The plan to smuggle out the dog appeared to go off without a hitch. So why did the prisoner feel like he was about to be caught? Was it the swagger in the officer’s gait, footfalls slow and deliberate, chin up, every pore on his freshly shaved cheeks exuding smugness? Had the Commandant known all along, biding his time, relishing this moment of psychological foreplay, unable to conceal his pleasure as the two men came face to face?
Though his legs stood their ground, inside the prisoner buckled. Weak and defeated, head bowed, he had been so close. And now, he would lose everything. Defeat, fear and a new reality saw their chance and swooped in, rippling through him as he broke down and cried.
“Ino murrasini noka?” asked the Commandant. Dog not come?
The prisoner managed to nod and kept his wet eyes on the ground. Only a few inches and a thin layer of worn canvas separated the dog’s snout from the full fury of the Japanese Captain.
The moment stretched. The Commandant twisted his lips into a feral grin, savoring it, and then, at last, cracked his cane against the tops of his shining leather boots. He marched on.
Not until the prisoner dropped into the black stench of the old tramp steamer’s hold did he dare to open the sack and allow the poor creature inside to finally stretch and drink water. The Dutch steamship, SS Van Waerwijck, was bound for Singapore and another POW campbut this one held the possibility of Red Cross packages, letters from home, news of the outside world and, hopefully, a more merciful incarceration.
For a while, man and dog shared the two most important things they had left in this worldhope, and each other’s companionship.
They did not have long. Within hours of their departure, two torpedoes sent their ship to the bottom of the Malacca Strait and, once more, man and dog would fight to keep their remarkable bond alive.


I loved this project, was fascinated with it, not least because of my British connection, my Grandfather a fighter pilot in World War II. Alas it was not to be. Despite Judy’s passing over seventy years before, I was beaten to the finish line by another writer getting a deal perhaps no more than a few days ahead of me. I’ll never know. I do know I was crushed, my book destroyed before I’d even had a chance to write it.
Perhaps this experience cemented my desire to write fiction, something where competition from other writers would not be a problem. But what to write?
This is where my agent, Jeff Kleinman, comes into his own. Jeff relishes the creative process, he’s unbelievably good at it, and he will encourage me to come at him with ideas, elevator pitches, in the form of a few lines, a short paragraph, to see whether it peaks his interest. The Wonder of Lost Causes was born along the lines of “Sick kid believes that he’s traded illness for a special gift, the ability to communicate with dogs.” A paragraph becomes a page, a synopsis of a story, a discovery of things that work and things that don’t. One page becomes ten, twenty, forty and suddenly an outline for a book begins to develop. This process took months but toward the end of 2016, Jeff said, “Okay, go ahead and write a first draft.” What a relief to finally get going. And so I did, and, perhaps nine months later (I’m pretty quick once I have a plan), I sent Jeff my first draft. This was when he called me on a Sunday morning, shopping in a local supermarket, raving about how he had read the first half of the book, fallen in love with the two central characters, Jasper, the sick boy, Kate, his single mom, how he had laughed and, most of all cried (this is imperative for Jeff with animal related stories, get him crying, you are on to a winner). He was going to continue reading, get back to me later, and I was on cloud nine, my imagination spending royalty money, wondering who would play Jasper and Kate in the movie version. Five hours passed and then he delivered my reality check.
“We need to talk about the second half of the book and why it’s not working.”
Hard to hear, even harder to fix, but Jeff was absolutely right, the last two hundred pages of the book had to go. I needed a new ending, a new direction and we were back to our literary game of tennis, the emails sailing, volleying, back and forth until the correct ending, the obvious ending, the necessary ending came to be. By the time the book sold to Harper Collins at the beginning of 2017, my editor Lyssa Keusch loved it, for the most part, but knew it could be better. It took me another year to add enough spit and polish to get down to the fine nitty gritty of what you will be able to read in May. And don’t get me started on book titles and book covers!
As if this writing challenge weren’t enough, there have been big changes in my life both at work and home. But maybe these should keep until next time. Suffice to say even after penning a NY Times Bestseller, and having your writing translated into sixteen different languages, this fickle endeavor never gets easier on any level. Trouble is it’s as frustrating as it is addictive, as crazy as it is rewarding. For now, I’ll stick with, “Who cares about the journey, so long as you arrive.”

Just over a month away from the release of The Wonder of Lost Causes and I'm thrilled so many of you have entered the Goodreads Giveaway. I also truly appreciate the increase in the number of folks joining my list of followers. If you and your friends enjoy my writing I encourage you to visit drnicktrout.com and sign up for the free newsletter. You'll get veterinary anecdotes, pet advice and insight into the how The Wonder of Lost Causes came to be.
Best wishes
Nick

With the upcoming release of The Wonder of Lost Causes, April 30th, I've created a new web page. Same address; www.drnicktrout.com, BUT, new format and, most importantly, an opportunity to sign up for a monthly e-newsletter, if you are interested. In this newsletter I'm hoping to spin a tale or two from the frontlines of veterinary medicine, to offer a little veterinary advice, and to talk about my latest novel. I'm also hoping to include some giveaways (and please take advantage of signing up for the amazing giveaway here at Goodreads, with 100 copies available!!!!)
All best,
Nick