Writing With No Opposable Thumb

29 05 2012

The process gives new meaning to “hunt and peck”.

My nose is sore. The space between my ears (high cranial area known to contain the Great Knowledge of the Terrier) aches from the nose-tap concussion of putting words to paper each day. But I am finished with the feat.

I stretch out Under the Tuscan Sun (I am in author-mode, after all) and warm myself on summer’s fringe, thinking of the agent process. 

Query letters come to mind. Tag-lines run through my small but efficient canine brain: Mayhem ensues when the family dog discovers his master’s infidelity…or is it, his masters infidelity. Possessive AND plural. Oy.

Punctuation is not my strong suit, after all, dogs do not usually put words to paper…paper is saved for puppyhood deposits.

But it HAS been done: A Dog’s Life, The Art of Racing in the Rain, Timbuktu, Mr.Chartwell…all to some success.

Why not a real autodogography, by a real dog.

Great hook, no?


Nap-time is over. I trundle back to the chair, stacked with multiple pillows, and raise myself to the keyboard.

Dog seeking representation.

Chow.





Cloud Dog

18 05 2012

In between clouds, the spring sun shines warmly on the grass of the Pincio today.  Really Is GreenerI took a long walk, stopping to roll here and there, picking up the scent of recent dogs and the color of the grass.FEELING GOOD!!!Prima Roll

Once I paused to look up, legs in the air, snout pointed to the sky, and this is what I saw: a cloud like my dog! ハチ公A Cloud Dog.

If this were ancient Rome, Nero might have seen this and proclaimed either the Day of Dog and we would still be in power, or that every dog be eaten, depending on the clarity of his mind at the moment.  897 Nero Denarius with Reverse Military StandardsI am happy emperors no longer rule.  It is enough to suffer periodic edicts from the Management: “Don’t get on the furniture, get down from the bed, don’t lick the floor”, et cetera.

Though irritating, life must be simpler now, and more predictable.  Dinner usually comes on time, and mornings bring a walk on the Pincio…where I can roll, mindless, on the grass.Argyle enjoying a rollHappiness Is . . .dogs rolling in the grass

Chow.





The Vintage of Cheese

11 05 2012

Does anyone out there understand what spring really does to a small dog of sophisticated taste?

Spring cheeses made from the milk of newly lactating ewes, goats and cows, perch on the shelves of cheese shops on every corner.

Passing by, my whiskers perk, my tail stiffens and I leave a tiny whisp of drool along my trail like a child wandering through a fairy tale. 

While cheese is available throughout the year, there is an ethereal quality to a cheese made from an animal producing that mystery substance of milk for the first time.

It’s nature’s way. It’s instinct. It’s the discovery of life, renewed and boiled down to hope.

Which is what I do most in spring. Hope for a cheese less forbidden to the lactose-intolerant canine.

I content myself with bits of floor-fall.

I drool, therefore I am…a Dog.

Chow.





Fava is for Fav

2 05 2012

To a small dog, spring means more sun, less mud, sprouts in the garden and spring lambs.

Together it’s the perfect formula for a basket of fresh Fave beans,

a chunk of salty Pecorino straight from the mother of a newborn sheep and a plot of dry grass under the shade of a Chestnut tree with a glass of Friulian wine.

Available in most farmer’s markets this time of year, the fava bean is a bitter, crunchy vegetable that, when eaten raw from the shell and paired with a great Pecorino cheese, describes the very flavor of spring.

Or try it in risotto…with Pecorino.

Or in pasta…with Pecorino.

Or sauteed, pureed, served as a bed for bitter Rapini, drizzled with a fine olive oil….and topped with shaved Pecorino.

Or forget the Fave….eat the Pecorino. Drink the wine. Nap.

Chow.








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