Tag: magical

When I sat down to write The Excellent Adventures of Honey and Hubie, I wanted to capture the kind of day every child secretly hopes for: the day when the world opens up beyond the garden fence and you discover that courage and friendship live inside you. Honey, the little Italian greyhound, begins the story very much like many of us do—safe, loved, and yet quietly restless.

She has a warm home, caring owners, and a familiar routine, but her heart is tugged by the idea that there might be “something more” just beyond the fence. Hubie, her bright green frog friend in a pirate hat, is that “something more” come to life: he is curiosity, mischief, and optimism all rolled into one.

As Honey follows Hubie out of the garden, the story becomes a journey through all the magic I remember from my own childhood walks in the woods: talking animals, music in the trees, and tiny folk who live in unexpected places. Along the way Honey meets the Buttercup Fairies, joins the Moppets’ grand celebration, learns to swim with the help of a graceful swan, and even helps
rescue baby Carmelia from the fearsome Screeches. Each encounter is meant to feel like a small, complete adventure, but they all circle back to one idea: we grow braver and kinder when we step outside our comfort zone for the sake of someone else.

At the heart of the book is the friendship between Honey and Hubie. They tease, they disagree, and they frighten each other at times, but when real danger appears, Honey finds herself willing to risk everything to protect her friend.

That moment—when a quiet, uncertain little dog stands up to a threatening Screech—is the true center of the story. Hubie later tells her that real
friendship is when you care so deeply for someone that you would give your life for theirs without thinking of your own. I wanted young readers to see that bravery doesn’t always roar; sometimes it looks like a trembling friend who refuses to run away.

The book is dedicated to my son, and that dedication is very real. I wrote this story hoping that he, and children everywhere, would never lose their sense of fantasy, because it is where compassion, courage, and creativity first learn to walk.

Honey ends the day muddy, tired, and smelling like a skunk, but she is also changed: she has danced, swum, rescued, laughed, and learned what true friendship feels like. It is not a “perfect” ending, but a perfectly honest one—a
reminder that the best days are often a little messy, a little risky, and filled with memories that last long after the bathwater runs clear.

T. J. Mueller