Pawscar Wilde
“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Selected Works ✦
From the Chaise Longue
The archive — essays and observations, long thoughts and short ones. Some arrived slowly, turned over for days before landing. Others were finished before looking up. Both are correct. All of it belongs to the Pawscar Wilde series.
The Architecture of Absence
The breakfast routine runs exactly as it should. I escort Dad to the kitchen, wait as he cleans the water bowl, follow — read more
Youth's Impeccable Logic, Age's Quiet Regrets
There are things you do as a puppy that make perfect sense at the time. The logic was airtight. It was warm. — read more
The Freezer Operates Daily, Yet Fridays Remain Insufferably Theatrical
Every Friday they open the freezer and hand us frozen bones like it’s some kind of special occasion. I’ve done the math. — read more
Two Empty Bowls: A Tragedy in Acts
I went to my purple bowl. It was empty. I walked to Gus's blue bowl. Also empty. I returned to the purple bowl — read more
The Curious Geometry of Satiation
The kibble bowl sits empty and I am magnificently, absurdly, triumphantly full. Every step reverberates. I am a tuning — read more
The Quiet Ritual: Observing a Man and His First Sip
Dad opens a can that sounds different from the others. The smell reaches me before he’s finished pouring. Northwest IPA. — read more
The Bench: A Study in Strategic Recumbence
The picnic table bench is exactly basset height and I have claimed the entire thing. Dad sits across from us with — read more
The Unbearable Lightness of Being a Party Guest
The patio chairs are metal and cold through my fur. Gus has positioned himself where three different conversations — read more
The House Shifted. We Didn't Notice Until Now.
The morning light has that thin Monday quality — present but uncommitted. Everything feels slightly off-center, like the — read more
The Typewriter's Melancholy: Notes on Insomnia
The house settles into its nighttime rhythm. From my donut bed I can hear Dad's keyboard in the studio, a distant — read more
The Particular Dread of Sunday's Almost-Over
The Sunday is ending and I can feel it in my bones and also in the air and also in the way Gus is lying down but not — read more
Sunday Donuts
I've settled into my donut bed with the precision of someone who has calculated the exact moment when Sunday becomes — read more