The holidays are suddenly passed, and I'm back to work, still buried in an over-booked calendar. Tuesday's job lasted well into the evening, and my fingers were too tired to type. Those are my excuses. At least the dog didn't eat my homework, but I don't have a dog anyway. I used to have a dog, when I was younger. The first one got hit by a bus; his name was Scotty. My second dog, a wonderful Border Collie, was struck by a car while we waited for the schoolbus. He died later that day. I had a regular Lassie-style collie, too, later on. His name was Champ, after "Champ, the Gallant Collie"--a book I read when I was about twelve. Champ needed far more space than we could give him. I think he went crazy.
I finished a sweet little book last week, My Life in Dog Years, by Gary Paulsen. My younger son, Nick, recognized the author's name immediately. Paulsen writes for school-age readers, but his style is fine for adult reading and his content is amazing. This guy has lived a very interesting life. In the final chapter he mentions that he's had "hundreds" of dogs. The book highlights the more entertaining and intelligent of those. Nicky read it in about two hours flat. Sadly, I've never had a dog worth writing about. I will anyway, though--write about my dogs. (Wow, just call me "Mr. Language Guy"!)
You hear the phrase, a boy and his dog, now and then. Meaning, I suppose, a boy needs a dog. Or dogs go with boys. Something to that effect. I never really got that concept. Don't get me wrong--I loved my dogs, and even mourned their passing. But I don't miss them. Maybe I'm missing an important dog-gene. Or maybe I need a bigger yard. I do miss having someone around to pick up the table scraps I drop. We have a cat for now. She acts like a dog--around me, at least. Cats aren't as much fun as dogs; but they're not nearly as needy, either. I can take them or leave them, too. See, I haven't actually written about my dogs, after all, have I? That's probably for the best. I promise next week's Tuesday Trivia will be posted on a Tuesday. Maybe it won't be quite as trivial as this week's piece. Then again...
Happy New Year, one last time!
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