about my book. “I got to page 4,” she says
over spaetzle bubbling into glue. Rose is tipsy
but her several glasses of wine have left me
far too sober. Peppered with “blah-blah-blah”
her word-gush: “Children and dogs adore me.
Isn’t that true?” she asks Suzie Q, whose rheumy eyes
never leave mine. “Agreed, Shatzie?” (To dog 2.)
The nuzzling canines hound me into deep communion:
dropped ears showing how keenly they wish not to hear.
Desperate to leave, I make a temperate excuse.
Rose barks,“But first you must read my children’s book
written through the eyes of a puppy.” I look to the mutts
for confirmation. They shuffle away – would say
“blah-blah-blah” if they could.
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