Deadline. Deadline. Deadline.
Since I’m up against one, I will be playing hooky from the blog today. But,
only after I leave you with a quote and a few photos of my beloved dogs.
“The writers greed is appalling. He wants, or seems to want, everything and practically everybody, in another sense, and at the same time, he needs no one at all.”-James Baldwin
I will always need you darlings, but I have to run off to write a review. Until tomorrow, then.
This is how
my babies
really sleep.
Those pesky Internet-stealing Goblins struck again last night. Since I can only write so many sentences with ease on my phone, all of the lovely posts I had planned for today (and possibly tomorrow) are temporarily on hold. Here are a couple of random photos to tide you over.
This gallery contains 8 photos.
Dogs are love. It is as simple as that. I defy you to look at Crosley and tell me otherwise.
My freckle-snouted cutie.
Cros warms my feet as I am writing, and fills my heart with love 24-hours a day.
Duncan does not have literary interests like his feline sister. He prefers to run around like a cyclone, chasing shadows. He’s hard to photograph because he is rarely still. Even when caught in a moment of relaxation, he starts bouncing around as soon as he sees the glint of the phone or camera, trying to find, then kill, the light source. Thank goodness for the existence of the burst shot.
Duncan in a moment of stillness.
“Not Carnegie, Vanderbilt, and Astor together could have raised money enough to buy a quarter share in my little dog.”-Ernest Thompson Seton
I’m still sick, still struggling to find energy, still spending my days curled up on the couch. Fortunately, I have great, wet-nosed company.
Napping Crosley. Instagram. “Happiness is a warm puppy.”-Charles M. Schulz
I will forgive you for thinking that, when not writing, I like to put things on dogs’ heads and photograph them looking put-upon and silly. If you are one of the few readers of this blog who think otherwise, go here.
This time, it is slightly different. This dog, you see, is not my dog. His name is Zero, and he belongs to my best friend. I did not plop the offending reindeer antlers headband on his sweet, sweet head. I am, however, an opportunist: I snapped this pic with my phone camera approximately three seconds later. Fear not. He still loves his favourite Auntie. I think.
Zero the lead reindog.
“The greatest pleasure of a dog is that you may make a fool of yourself with him, and not only will he not scold you, but he will make a fool of himself, too.”-Samuel Butler
When I’m not writing or reading, I’m taking snaps of the boys. Crosley and Duncan are truly my wet-nosed, slobbering, warm-eared Daily Diversions. Cros shows up on the blog more frequently because he spends most of his day sleeping on various lumpy things, his head on a pillow. It hasn’t been tested but I’m confident that Duncan has enough energy to power, at the very least, a four slice toaster. He doesn’t sit still for more than a few seconds. Today’s diversion features you-know-who, doing you-know-what. Imagine that.
“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read.”-Groucho Marx
Duncan kept me company while I was sick…
He knows how to get my attention.
“He that loves reading has everything within his reach.”-William Godwin
With our cable and internet connection mysteriously down until just a few hours ago, my weekend consisted of the following: writing (not blogging), cleaning, watching movies on my laptop, blasting punk rock through open windows, listening to sirens scream through the neighbourhood, daydreaming, thinking about doing laundry and then deciding against it, reading, swaying in the breeze clad in my underwear and a hoodie (I get cold), and photographing my dogs while they murmured in their sleep.
PS-I will be playing catch-up for the next few days. Thank you for your patience.
Six days worth of entertainment in one 90-pound package of fur.
Napping is what he does best. That, and looking cute.
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 