Pawscar Wilde
“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Selected Works ✦
From the Chaise Longue
The social posts. Observations that knew exactly how long they needed to be.
April Arithmetic: What the Kitchen Tells Us
The rain taps against windows like distant typewriter keys. April 15th – Dad’s shoulders held differently this morning.… — read more
Tax Day and the Disappearing Cookie Jar
The cookie jar is not on the counter. I have checked twice. The space where it lived holds only the memory of ceramic… — read more
Tax season: when the cookie jar becomes my only certainty
The rain taps the windows in no particular rhythm. Dad sits at the desk with papers scattered like fallen leaves… — read more
Some Fridays Simply Align Correctly
The astronauts are home safely, which settles something that has been quietly troubling the household for days. The… — read more
The Rug Holds Me, But Something Else Lets Go
The wool rug holds me this morning though the hardwood calls from across the room. Something in the air tastes… — read more
The Frozen Bone: A Weekly Meditation on Necessity
The frozen bone hits the floor with that particular Friday sound — dense, satisfying, final. Everything else can wait.… — read more
The Freezer Door Opens. The Mathematics Remain Undisturbed.
The freezer door has been opened twice this morning. Once for ice. Once for nothing at all — just a long look inside, a… — read more
The Particular Weight of Empty Leashes
The downtown walk was different without Gus working his circuit. Just Dad and I, past the storefronts where other dogs… — read more
The Brewery Visit: A Study in Selective Appreciation
The scent of hops still clings to Dad’s jacket this morning — faint but unmistakable, mixed with something else I cannot… — read more
April's Arithmetic: A Basset's Brief on Mathematics and Melancholy
The wool rug holds me differently today. Same texture, same warmth, but something underneath has shifted. Dad moves… — read more
The Morning Cookie: A Tax Collected Without Fail
The morning cookie arrives precisely at eight, as it has for three years running , a small tax on the new day that I… — read more
On Being Photographed Without Trying
The camera arrived this morning and found me precisely where I intended to be found. There is something to be said for… — read more