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.
Two Beers, Two Bones, Four Contentments
The sound of two beer bottles opening in the kitchen means something good is settling over the house. Mom and Dad — read more
Friday Evenings: A Study in Delayed Gratification
The scoop hits the bin at precisely 7:00, but this sound carries more to it on Fridays. The frozen bone awaits. Tonight — read more
The Mathematics of Morning
It is Friday. This fact carries weight beyond the ordinary progression of days. Somewhere in the freezer, wrapped in the — read more
The Mathematics of Friday Evening
The frozen bone waits in the freezer, and I wait for the frozen bone. This is the mathematics of Friday evening. — read more
On the Reliability of Frozen Bones Versus Gallery Wine
The frozen bone waits in the freezer while downtown fills with people holding wine glasses and pretending to study paint — read more
The Weight of White
Snow changes the light through glass, turns familiar rooms into something almost foreign, almost remembered. — read more
On the Sudden Necessity of Velocity
The zoomies arrive without announcement, as they should. One moment I am contemplating the snow through glass, the next — read more
The Squeaker Demands What the Squeaker Demands
Squeaker found me and there is no stopping this. Down the hall toward the kitchen then back toward the studio then a sha — read more
The Hallway Becomes a Racetrack; Gus Remains Unmoved
Snow fell overnight. The yard has vanished under white and the morning walk proposal was quietly withdrawn. Gus has — read more
On the Inadequacy of 'Treat': A Basset's Lament
The word carries weight you cannot imagine. Cookie. The sound alone rearranges the architecture of my chest. You reach — read more
A Matter of Taxonomy
There exists in this house a curious linguistic divide that I have observed with the patience of a naturalist — read more
The Vocabulary of Kibble: A Study in Inevitability
The word hardly matters. What matters is the sound of the jar opening, the rustle of the bag, the small thud on the — read more