Special Report from Auggie Doggie

     Since it’s the Dog Days of Summer and my true name is August, it’s time for my special report. As you know, I have a very important job. My human mom, Marilee, writes books and I’m her muse. In other words, I’m supposed to be her source of inspiration. It’s a hard job because she has a bajillion ways to actually avoid writing. The woman never runs out of excuses.

“Oh,” she says. “My computer screen needs cleaning.” Out comes the spray bottle and cleaning rag. Squirt. Wipe. Repeat. And it doesn’t end there. Suddenly, the printer needs dusting, the trash emptied, the bookshelf re-arranged. She also needs what she calls thinking time. Looks a lot like naptime to me, but what do I know? I’m just the muse.

Now for my favorite excuse. She says,“Is that a spider on the ceiling? It might fall into my hair, make a nest and deposit a bunch of spider eggs. I can’t possibly work under those conditions.” If I had the ability to speak, here’s what I would say. “Hello! You have a laptop. Move it to the kitchen.” Instead, I just sigh and look reproachful. If that doesn’t work, a cold nose nudge on her bare leg does the trick.

There are days when I must be doing a great job, because she gets a certain look in her eyes, plops down in her chair and writes for hours. When that happens, I curl up in bed and think deep thoughts. I call it napping.

I guess you can tell my line of work is exhausting and requires special snacks, namely liver treats along with an occasional slurp of frozen yogurt. All in all, not a bad gig. A muse’s job is never done. Just saying . . .

Until next time, Auggie Doggie, signing off.