conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me a description for a story titled Fenway and Hattie Up to New Tricks about Victoria, POV, Rachel with the genre: Children's Books, Growing Up & Facts of Life.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Victoria has an amazing ability to see things from a different POV. By far the best and funniest of the series so far! - Rachel Harder, 4th grade teacher and NerdCampKS committee member
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first two paragraphs for this story.. Start with the sentence 'Fenway and Hattie Up to New Tricks
  I scramble through Hattie's blankets, searching for the used-to-be bear'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Fenway and Hattie Up to New Tricks
  I scramble through Hattie's blankets, searching for the used-to-be bear. His legs are long gone. But he's still got an arm and a head with two button eyes. And most important of all, he's always here when I need him—just like Hattie. They're both always up for a loving snuggle or a thrilling game of keep-away.
  I leap off the bed and tear around the room. Hattie's hot on my tail, waving a towel. She is the best short human ever, even if she's no match for a Jack Russell Terrier like me.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I keep on kicking. "You obviously don't remember, Hattie," I bark. "But this place is bad news. We've got to get out of here!"
  She looks at me with a pained face, like maybe she's beginning to get it. But right then, we're interrupted by a howling that can only be described as dreadful. We turn toward a white Husky who's slumped around her human's feet.
  My ears wilt in sympathy. I wiggle. I kick. "Listen, Hattie, it's unanimous. We need to ditch this place!"
  The odor hits me first—terror and agony. I zoom in on the wall and the Table of Panic. I remember scraping claws, sliding paws. I start trembling with dread.
  Fetch Man gives Hattie a look of reassurance. He pats her shoulder like she's the one who's horrified.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Reverse the sentences.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: He pats her shoulder like she's the one who's horrified..
  Fetch Man gives Hattie a look of reassurance. I start trembling with dread. I remember scraping claws, sliding paws. I zoom in on the wall and the Table of Panic. We need to ditch this place!"
  The odor hits me first—terror and agony. "Listen, Hattie, it's unanimous. I kick. I wiggle.
  My ears wilt in sympathy. We turn toward a white Husky who's slumped around her human's feet. But right then, we're interrupted by a howling that can only be described as dreadful. We've got to get out of here!"
  She looks at me with a pained face, like maybe she's beginning to get it. "But this place is bad news. "You obviously don't remember, Hattie," I bark.I keep on kicking
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last five paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: For a Long, Long Time, I've wondered what dogs must think when we try to give them medicine. One day, I invited my neighbor Megan Brandwein, a veterinarian, to come over and talk about it. To my delight, she was not only willing to help brainstorm what can go wrong when a dog is hard to treat, but she was also full of anecdotes about caring for rambunctious Jack Russell terriers. Turns out, they are not the best patients.
  And it also turns out that my own dog Kipper could give those JRTs a run for their money. He is such a bad patient that it takes at least two of us to take him to the vet—and that's when we can actually get him in the door (one time the vet had to give him his shots in an alley). So the good news is I had plenty of inspiration. Thank you, Kipper!
  Huge thanks to my (former) neighbor Megan (whose resemblance to Spicy Breath is not a coincidence) and my brilliant goddaughter Daniela Yuschenkoff, soon-to-be DVM. Without these ladies' expert help, advice, and fact-checking, I could not have written this story. Here's hoping none of their future patients are as hard to handle as Fenway!
  A spot-on manuscript critique is a pretty neat trick. Many thanks to my astute readers, critiquers, and friends Cheryl Lawton Malone, Cynthia Levinson, Theresa Milstein, Judy Mintz, Lisa J. Rogers, Pat Sherman, and Donna Woelki. If anything is more amazing than these ladies' helpful feedback, it's their generosity.
  And finally, love and gigantic thanks to my family—Ralph, Philip, James, Mom, Dad, Walter, my brother and sister and their families, and all the Gormans and Wallaces. I hope I've made you proud.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: I hope I've made you proud. One day, I invited my neighbor Megan Brandwein, a veterinarian, to come over and talk about it. To my delight, she was not only willing to help brainstorm what can go wrong when a dog is hard to treat, but she was also full of anecdotes about caring for rambunctious Jack Russell terriers. Turns out, they are not the best patients.
  And it also turns out that my own dog Kipper could give those JRTs a run for their money. He is such a bad patient that it takes at least two of us to take him to the vet—and that's when we can actually get him in the door (one time the vet had to give him his shots in an alley). So the good news is I had plenty of inspiration. Thank you, Kipper!
  Huge thanks to my (former) neighbor Megan (whose resemblance to Spicy Breath is not a coincidence) and my brilliant goddaughter Daniela Yuschenkoff, soon-to-be DVM. Without these ladies' expert help, advice, and fact-checking, I could not have written this story. Here's hoping none of their future patients are as hard to handle as Fenway!
  A spot-on manuscript critique is a pretty neat trick. Many thanks to my astute readers, critiquers, and friends Cheryl Lawton Malone, Cynthia Levinson, Theresa Milstein, Judy Mintz, Lisa J. Rogers, Pat Sherman, and Donna Woelki. If anything is more amazing than these ladies' helpful feedback, it's their generosity.
  And finally, love and gigantic thanks to my family—Ralph, Philip, James, Mom, Dad, Walter, my brother and sister and their families, and all the Gormans and Wallaces.For a Long, Long Time, I've wondered what dogs must think when we try to give them medicine.