Having served more than three decades with the Virginia Beach Police Department—the largest city police agency in Virginia—and now serving as Chief of Police for the New Bern Police Department, I wanted The Smallest Rottweiler to honor both organizations in the way its fictional police department was portrayed.
The challenge was finding the right balance. I wanted to acknowledge two historic and deeply respected agencies without simply borrowing their identities for my own story. Instead, my goal was to create something original that paid tribute to each in a respectful and meaningful way.
The first decision involved the name of the fictional police department.
At first glance, it may appear that I took the easy route by simply calling it the City Police Department. There is some truth to that. But the deeper I got into editing this book, the more I came to believe that “City” was not a shortcut at all—it was the only name that could actually hold what this story is trying to do.
The Smallest Rottweiler is, at its heart, about being underestimated and finding your place anyway. Gunther is the runt. He is not supposed to be the one who matters, and yet he becomes exactly that. A story built on that idea did not belong in a specific, identifiable town, because the moment I named a real place, I would have quietly told every reader outside that town: this happened somewhere else. Leaving the setting as simply City does the opposite. It lets the story happen anywhere. It lets it happen in your town, whichever one that is.
That is why, apart from Pantak’s Kennel—whose location is intentionally never identified—the actual place where Payge, Caitlynn, Clint, and the rest of the human characters live is never specifically named. That omission was deliberate from the start. But it was only after I began editing this novel in 2024 that I noticed something that turned a placeholder into a real choice.
Both Virginia Beach and New Bern share something I had not fully appreciated until then. Their official titles are:
- City of Virginia Beach
- City of New Bern
Do you see the commonality? It took me longer than I care to admit to recognize what looks, in hindsight, like a simple observation. But once I saw it, I understood that I had not been avoiding a decision by calling it City—I had been pointing, without realizing it, at the one word both departments I’ve served already share. “City” was not a placeholder standing in for a name. It was the name, hiding in plain sight in both of their official titles the entire time.
There is something fitting about that for a book about a runt nobody expected much from. The name of this fictional department did not arrive from ambition or invention. It arrived from paying closer attention to what was already there—which is, in its own way, exactly what happens to Gunther over the course of this story.
I had hoped the name would be entirely unique. To my surprise, however, there is actually a community in the United States whose official name is simply City. It is in Texas. So, if you happen to call City, Texas, home, I hope you accept my choice as a compliment—and perhaps even recognize a little of your own town’s quiet, unclaimed universality in these pages.
The design of the police patch followed the same philosophy.
As you review the accompanying illustration, you’ll notice that I intentionally avoided using the distinctive shield shape of either the Virginia Beach or New Bern Police Department patches. That decision was important to me. Had I adopted one agency’s iconic design over the other’s, I felt I would have unintentionally elevated one above the other. I was unwilling to do that.
Instead, I selected a neutral patch shape and created a design that respectfully blends symbolic elements from both agencies. The bear and lighthouse, the First Landing Cross, and the colors all serve as subtle tributes, woven together into a single emblem. My intention was not to replicate either patch, but to create something new that reflects the heritage of both while allowing each to stand as an equal contributor to the design—much as the name City lets both departments stand as equal, uncredited namesakes of the story itself.
One historical detail deserves mention. The First Landing Cross featured on the Virginia Beach Police Department patch has been challenged in court on more than one occasion as an alleged violation of the principle commonly referred to as the separation of church and state. In each instance, the courts concluded that the cross represents a historical landmark commemorating the 1607 landing at Cape Henry rather than a religious endorsement. For that reason, it has remained part of the department’s official insignia.
Above all else, I want to make one thing clear.
I deeply love, respect, and admire both the Virginia Beach Police Department and the New Bern Police Department. Each has a proud history, a unique identity, and generations of dedicated men and women who have worn the badge with honor. I consider it one of the greatest privileges of my life to have served both agencies.
To every officer, civilian employee, and volunteer—past, present, and future—thank you for your service and your sacrifice. It is my sincere hope that The Smallest Rottweiler honors your profession in a way that reflects the pride I have felt wearing the badge and patch of these agencies, and the pride I hope each of you has felt, or will someday feel, in serving your community.