Coffee Log, Year 2, Day 56


Coffee: Breakfast Blend, Trader Joe’s Brand

A dog showed up at our door.

My roommate’s sister is going out of town. While she’s gone, we’re watching the dog. She’s a small Chihuahua with dark brown eyebrows. She’s very quiet, very polite, and runs in circles when it’s time for food.

Growing up, I was surrounded by dogs. My family had seven over all, five at one time. We inherited two dogs when my grandmother came to live with us. I liked the dogs, maybe even loved them, but they never got into my skin. Some pet owners fall to pieces without a canine companion. They love all dogs, slobber themselves on this or that four-legged critter. It’s beautiful, I kind of envy it. No, I loved the dogs I grew up with, but I’ve got little love for dogs overall.

When you look at me, it’s like you see a different side of me. You see someone bountiful. You see hands hiding treats, a place at the couch, a long leash. You see someone that’s an indispensable part of your social order. In or out of the pack, there’s a definite place for me. That’s what throws me off – I’ve never seen myself so clearly as you do; I find myself better in the cautious eyes of cats.

Still, I gotta admit, our temporary boarder is pretty cute.

Currently Reading: The Sense of an Ending, Julian Barnes (FINISHED! Will share thoughts soon)

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A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of.

Ogden Nash, The Private Dining Room and Other Verses

Coffee Log, Day 350


Coffee: Locomotive Blend, PennyCup Coffee; my second to last batch if I’m judging the amount of beans. I’ve liked this coffee. It was a gift, which always helps, but I would have liked it if I’d come across it on my own. It’s direct with it’s flavors but still a little complicated, especially if you drink it like I do – big mouthfuls lounging on the back of your tongue. Makes me want to get up and do something, but doesn’t guilt me when I’m only sitting down.

I was having a conversation with a co-worker about her dogs. She treats them like children. They go with her everywhere. She won’t board them, says it’s cruel. And maybe it is – if you can give something a good life, why wouldn’t you?

I used to know a woman who had two cats. One was gray, one was brown. They had dramatic personalities. The gray could would wake you at 3:00 am to show you it’s shadow. The brown cat would hiss if you got too close. Once, brown cat ate a piece of plastic. She was real sick. So I took the morning off to drive her to the vet. She was in a tiny plastic carry-on. She made the most pitiful sounds. The vets took her in for surgery and I waited a couple hours, then she was better. Afterwards, she’d sometimes come to sit with me when I was reading in bed or working on something.

There’s a lot of emotion in the world, even if there’s not much intelligence. But intelligence tends to produce things like McDonald’s and plastic bottles, so maybe it’s overrated.

Novel Count: 20,399

Currently Reading: Killing Commendatore, Haruki Murakami

Support Relief for Family Suffering at the Border – RAICES DONATION CAMPAIGN

Name the different kinds of people,’ said Miss Lupescu. ‘Now.’

Bod thought for a moment. ‘The living,’ he said. ‘Er. The dead.’ He stopped. Then, ‘… Cats?’ he offered, uncertainly.

Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book