It's been a while since Molly stopped by to stare at you with her soulful eyes and whine at you until you feed her, and so: an update.
Molly has been keeping busy this winter, in spite of the fact that I, her terrible owner, have refused to put out a space heater for her to hog and she honestly feels like giving up on life every second except when a pillow falls off my bed. For reasons that REMAIN UNCLEAR every human pillow is more comfortable for a dog to lie on than a dog bed made for a dog. But I digress.
She has lately taken up a sport, or so she tells me. The rules of dog sports are a little obscure (run, run, RUN, stop, RUN), but she did make it clear that the prize was "MOR FUD, U GIV." When I said that no food would be made available after a recent win, she replied with a cryptic "NO WORRYS, MEATSTICK."
Here she is, being escorted to her podium by two men who are not imbuing this moment with the dignity and quiet admiration it deserves:
Meanwhile, I am reading Tana French's latest murder mystery, as well as the Pevear/Volokhonsky translation of War and Peace, and someday soon I will write a post about these things.