Practice Thursday--Who's Writing This, Anyway?

No, this is not a confession that my dog, Abbe, has been writing this blog all along, though I'm sure she has plenty to say to all you lovely people. I know she'd be full of gratitude for your interest in her small but significant life. She would say, I really like you, whoever you are. She would say, got anything good to eat? Salmon skin? A bit of bacon? A little crust of toast?

My dog would pant happily at the keyboard, and watch expectantly for your comments—as she thinks you're the most fabulous writer in the world! She might close her eyes for a minute, and roll on her side for a belly rub while waiting.

She wants to be wherever you are. She'll follow you from room to room. She'll stare at you until you think of something good to say.

She'll tell you: yes, the week's been hard. Yes, life's tough sometimes. But look, the full moon just rose on the horizon. It's the biggest moon we've ever seen, and it hangs there—fat and gold—for just a minute before disappearing behind the clouds. Slow down and watch it. Gasp. Let out a howl, because such a moon deserves praise.

And so do you, Abbe says. Praise you. Praise the hand that doles out the treats. Praise the leash that says we'll walk. Praise walking. Praise the water bowl that's always full. Praise the fleece bed and the toy that squeaks. Praise popcorn that falls from the sky.

Here we are, she says, you and I. Isn't it grand?