Cute dog pics
Finish this sentence: behind every writer/author is ____
THEIR FUR BABY! (Yes, yes, partners and and friends and families and agents and editors and mail carriers and Grub Hub drivers. Our undying thanks to all of you.) But in my case, and for the sake of this blog, it’s Oscar, my six-year-old Beagle. This chubby hound is an obstinate, headstrong fellow with a penchant for human food, including excellent boiled potatoes. To date, he’s only turned up his cold, wet nose to lettuce, tomatoes, pretzels, Jello, and some pumpkin sage gnocchi that even I wouldn’t eat. He mostly lazes around, sleeping near me, often at my feet, when I’m working. For the couple of hours he’s active a day, he’ll sniff around outside or howl at my poor, undeserving neighbors, who are by now used to, but likely still annoyed by, his baying. It’s difficult to be irritated at him for long because he’s cute and has velveteen ears, not to mention is a champion snuggler. But he’s also a keen narcissist who manipulates me with his big, soulful eyes to get whatever he wants—generally food. Sometimes attention. Occasionally toys.
“No, Oscar.”
“But, Mom, you only fed me twice today and seven treats isn’t enough. I’m still hungry!—-I’m gonna STARVE if you don’t share your chicken!” Except my niece and nephew, there his nothing, nothing, he loves more in this world than rotisserie chicken. He tries pawing my knee for emphasis.
Not wanting to dirty my hands, I knock his paws aside with my elbow. “Uh, uh. No. No!”
“But Mom, the vet said that protein treats were okay.” He shifts his substantial weight on his back haunches and slow blinks as he licks his chomps.
“Go away, Oscar. You already ate.” I turn my body 90 degree away, my defenses crumbling, but he follows me, his extra-wet nose nuzzling my hand where it rested in my lap on my napkin. I sighed, and looked down and the grinning dog, who knew he’d won, tall declaring victory before he ever got tossed a piece skin. I put it in his bowl, though. He didn’t get it right from the table. That has to count for something, right? Please tell me that counts for something. (Fine, I know! I created the monster!)
He’s a silly Beagle for sure. He gets out and runs off for adventures. He scoots his fat butt across my carpet. He sheds unmercifully. But he’s the best on dark and stormy nights, and he’s a great audience when I need to read sections of my work out loud. Oscar’s my best buddy and favorite co-worker of all time.
