Inspired by this post about writers and their dogs,  ( @readandbreathe on Twitter) here is a photo of me and my dog, Whiskey:


There are a few things worth noting in this picture, I think.

1. It was taken in our old house, before I had an office.

(Who am I kidding, I still have no office.  I have a room full of boxes of books and gear and old coats thrown on a chair.  But by now I’ve moved my “workspace” to the couch.)

2.  Whiskey, who, like Ann Patchett’s Rose is most likely a cross between a Chihuahua and a Jack Russell (and called a Jackawawa ’round these parts…) almost never relaxes.  He’s a neurotic little lunatic who barks at the sound of the toilet flushing and literally sleeps with one eye open.  When he does relax, he looks like this, curled against some human curve, and sticking out his tongue.

3.  My headphones.  I think these may have been freebies on an airplane, back when you could still get something for free on an airplane.  A minor tangent involving my freakishly tiny ear-parts:  the interior spiral nook  is so miniscule that trying to wrestle one of those hip little earbuds inside is a feat both punishing and impossible.  I’m not making excuses here, but…yes I am, I’m making excuses.  Please excuse the massive plastic.

Whiskey’s getting up there in years and has been under the weather of late, so I thought it would be a nice time to send him some web-love.

Whiskey, you’re a teeny tiny terror, with leg-warming talents unparalleled.


* Years ago, one of E’s friends started addressing Whiskey by growling “You Little Scumbag” (in the most endearing of tones.)  It stuck, and has since been abbreviated to “Scum.”   Sometimes “Scum-sucker.” Often “Scum-bum.”  TMI?  Maybe.