E.M. Goldsmith
I find I can’t write this week. Only that I must. I promised I would chronicle the year, even if it is in rants and shadows. All I can say about this week is that at least there are puppies. The rest I hope I forget. I peppered my new book with all the pain and fear. Fiction is the only place those bits of me should be allowed. If they ever get out…well, I hope you have a good place to hide. As I have mentioned, my demons are not tame. That’s why I have a dog. My pug keeps those demons well in hand.
Dogs see us as we were meant to be, perfect and worthy of great love. So play with the dog. Take a walk. Read a good book. Lose a day or two. The world will still be here tomorrow, and one day, each of us will wake as a curtain of silver rain falls back and reveals a bright green country. For now, there are puppies.
Hopefully things will improve. If not they will still be puppies next week.
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Puppies honestly make life better. Our friend Colin just told me he is not a dog person, and all I can say to that is thank heavens he’s a G-d person, because life without puppies is just and I could not do it.
Penelope has what I call “people eyes” – you can see her whites, and something about that heightens her already turbo-powered expressiveness. Between her and Gossamer the Editor Cat, coming home from work is for me a blessed experience. They strip me of strains some days like maidservants could shuck a lady of her wigs and gowns. Puppies and puddies too.
(I used to want to start a band and call ourselves Puppies, because I longed to hear fans screaming PUPPIES ROCK!! WOO PUPPIES! It just would not have been possible for people to hate us and scream PUPPIES SUCK! Right?)
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Oh funny, I typed “without puppies, life is just less” but my, it came out wrong.
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