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.
Sister's Decibel Dreams, My Unfortunate Baseline
Sister is in New York City measuring how loud things are. This seems like the perfect job for someone who is not a basse — read more
Wednesday's Ill-Fitting Coat: A Study in Delay
The hallway stretches longer than it did yesterday. I’ve walked it six times since breakfast and still no sign of the th — read more
Wednesday's delightful conspiracy against routine
Dad is putting on his boots. Gus is already at the mud room door. The car keys are in Dad’s hand. It is Wednesday and w — read more
The Diminishing Returns of Persistence
The peanut butter reaches places in the bone I cannot. I work at it with increasing determination, then stop. — read more
The Hunger That Satisfaction Leaves Behind
The peanut butter has been scraped from the bone’s hollow center, leaving only the ghost of what was. I work my tongue — read more
The Geometry of Absence
The peanut butter is gone from inside the bone. I can smell where it was. The hollow place where something good used to — read more
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