Puppies and Writers and Posts … Oh My!

He flies through the house, puppy paws going a mile a minute, his mouth smiling, his fur waving every which way. Play with me. Play! I swear, he actually laughs!

What else would a writer do, then, but stop all else to play, and train … and clean up after her new puppy? I’m trying very hard to be smarter than a puppy. I think he has a decided advantage. Nevertheless, for the first time in days, I’m at my desk, a doggy at last sleeping at my feet, and my fingers trying to remember how to translate a few foggy brain firings into words. Trying is the operative word, here. I’m not getting much sleep these days.

I hear my wonderful husband in the other room, shampooing a week’s worth of my mistakes off the carpet. I call them my mistakes only because a nine week-old puppy has neither the constitution nor the memory to avoid a now-and-then mishap, especially when his guardian is otherwise occupied and less-than vigilant with her foggy, sleep deprived brain. At least we have a few other training tricks mastered. He’s an expert already at ferreting out cookies in my pocket, and how to make me laugh with delight in spite of those little carpet errors.

Now, short blog completed, it’s off to another needed edit of my recent manuscript. We’ll see how long this computer session might last. Deadlines may loom, but puppies rule! Wish me luck.

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