Writing Goes to the Dogs. Again.

Well, it’s a dog’s day afternoon. And I have no idea what that means. A meaningless metaphor, I suppose.

But I have been pounding this keyboard trying to get a very special story from the brain to manuscript stage. It made its entrance in this gray matter some twenty years ago, but it is time to return to the drawing board. Which is another dumb metaphor because the only drawing I do is from my checking account. And we all know my checkbook is not suitable for framing.

But I am not alone in this authorship endeavor. The dogs are helping me.

Max: “Hey Deb…whatcha doing? Can I help? Are you going to use that printer thingy again….it scares the beejesus out of me. I’m afraid it is going to eat me.”
Harper: “If we could only be so lucky…”
Deb: “Boys, go away. I will never get this story written.”
Max: “Hey…can I be the first to eat it?”
Deb: “You mean, the first to read it?”
Max: “Hey…I love good literature! It makes a great snack.”
Harper: “Do you ever think of anything but digestion?”
Max:”Hey…if it’s plastic or paper it is my kind of meal.”
Deb:”Okay…now where was I? Oh yeah…I need a colon.”
Max: “Doesn’t the colon have to do with digestion?”
Harper: “Not that colon you idiot. Punctuation. Deb, from my vantage point, I see your participle is dangling in the third paragraph.”
Deb:”Just because you are named after an author doesn’t mean you are a grammarian.”
Max:”Hey….he’s a grammarian? I thought he was a Black Lab/Akita mix.”
Harper:”Oh…and you have a misplaced modifier in that last second paragraph. Just saying….”
Max:”Hey…I might know where that misplaced modifier is. Harper, didn’t you bury it with her black sock when the snow melted?”
Harper:”Oh my bad. I meant to bury you. Go away, Max. You know nothing about the craft of writing.”
Deb:”Harper be nice. Max can’t help it if he is…well, umm, Max. Harper….what do you think would make a good title?”
Max: Hey….title? I have a title. I am: ‘Max the Not Quite Right Rescue Dog’.”
Harper: “And….you are proud? Geesh.”
Max: “Hey….better than being named after some old lady author who stayed in her dog house after she wrote her dumb book about killin’ an old bird.”
Harper: “I will have you know that I am named after the amazing Harper Lee, who wrote, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ which is a classic novel, beloved my many. And Deb’s favorite book. So there.”
Max: Hey….”I thought her favorite book was the B-I-B-L-E.”
Harper: “And it is that one line in there, that says, “Thou shalt not kill” that is saving you right now. Oh Deb…spellcheck that last word in sentence four, paragraph six.”
Deb: “What would I do without you, Harper?”
Max: “Hey….what would you do without me?”
Harper:”Live in a world of pure joy, intelligence, and calm.”
Deb: “Oh Harper….look at what Max has brought into our lives.”
Harper: “Let’s look: I see pestilence, the plague, chaos, pandemonium, and that was just Tuesday.”
Max: “Hey…I was good on Tuesday. Pandemonium–that was Wednesday.”
Harper: “I stand corrected.”
Max: “Hey…I stand correctly every day.”
Deb: “Boys, it is time for a nap. You two are wearing me out like old socks.”
Max: “Ha! Ha! Ha! She called us old socks. Maybe she’ll bury us!”
Harper: “Is that Amvets truck going to be on our street? I have a donation. I’ll just need some duct tape for the box so it won’t escape.”
Deb: “Harper….you cannot give away Max. He’s family.”
Harper:”No. He’s the village idiot.”
Max: “Hey….now who’s stupid. We don’t live in a village. We live in a municipality called a ‘city’. So there, Harper Lee Wannabee!”
Harper:”Hmmm. ‘Municipality’….that’s a six syllable word. Maybe there is hope for you yet, Max!”
Deb: “Awww…I just love it when you get along. Want a treat?”
Max:”Hey….treats! Harper, we’re getting treats! Like, you know, doggie biscuits and such. Real snacks—not like the mail.”
Harper:”You get excited about the littlest thing. Okay. Let’s go get that treat. Remember; you sit, get the treat then run off. Last time you got the order all wrong. She had to chase you, watch you snarf it down, then you sat.”
Max:”I have trouble with that sequencing thing. Must have missed that Sesame Street episode on ‘before and after’.
Harper: “You are an episode. A manic episode.”
Deb:”Okay…go to bed. And no more talking. Go to sleep like good dogs.”
Max: “Hey….did you hear that? She called us good dogs.”
Harper:”Yeah, she always did have trouble with singular and plurals.”
Max: “Hey…quit talking about singing and pearls. I’m trying to get some sleep here.”
Harper:”‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ needs a sequel….but it won’t be about killing a bird.”
Deb: “Now….where was that misplaced modifier….?”