Are You There Dog?

It’s Me, Mercy!

Hi Y’all,

Thanks for all the kind and loving words last week. Sweet Pascal crossed over this past Saturday night. I am so sad she’s gone but I am so relieved her physical suffering is finished.

Grief and the first heat wave and some other stuff have signaled to my mind that more rest is in order. And so you are spared a long deep dive into my curious psyche this week. Instead, some light mind meringue to celebrate Mercy’s Imminent First Birthday. (Official Birth Date: 06/12/24, a very auspicious pattern I’d say!) I have created for y’all a brief narrative in verse. Each stanza is a haiku. It’s possible I decided to do this because I have been reading a NYT series on sparking creativity and one lesson involves purposefully choosing to work inside of the parameters of a particular form.

Happy Mercy’s Birthday to Y’all. According to her paperwork, when she was born she weighed FOURTEEN OUNCES. Think of a one-pound block of butter. She was less than that. Now I’m not even sure how much she weighs—my best guess is pushing 75 pounds. And she could, if allowed (or left unsupervised), fit a one-pound block of butter in her mouth. Effortlessly.

Oh, and speaking of heat waves, Mercy also just had her first heat! It’s Milestone Mania over here. Now I can have her spayed which means I can start taking her out in public more and training her to be a psychiatric service dog.

Anyway, enough! Enough already! Here’s the poem/haiku collection.

The day Milo died
way too young, but oh so sick
I kissed his black nose.

Mercy, I whispered.
Then he sighed one last deep sigh
Exhaled and…was FREE.

I waited five months
Then broke all of my own rules:
A puppy. Pure bred.

Wait, what?! No rescue?
No poor needy ancient wreck
(incontinent, too!)?

Oh no. Not this time.
This time I needed to know:
Good Health History

After having spent
eighteen consecutive months
watching three dogs die.

I met her mother
father, grandmother, an aunt
her happy siblings.

I picked her right up
and kissed her little black nose.
Mercy! I said.

Eighty-mile drive
She didn’t even throw up til
We got to the gate.

Oh Mercy, Mercy
Happy First Birthday to You
You big ol’ goofball.

And happy first heat!
I’m getting you the best gift!
HYSTERECTOMY!

You are so welcome!
Now you will never litter!
Focus on career! 

You have but one job:
Find all of the things and then
PUT THEM IN YOUR MOUTH!

Good Girl Mercy! Good
girl, good girl, good girl, good girl! 
ILYSM!

JOY & BEAUTY DEPARTMENT

LAWN MOWER REPORT

[No, I am not mowing the dirt road. Another tire went flat, so I had to Slime it. And then, to even out the Slime, I have to drive it around a bit.]

NOTES:

If you dig this substack, please consider a paid subscription. It really helps.

Next week I promise I’ll have a list of all of my upcoming writing workshops—there are lots to choose from. In the meantime, don’t forget I have a substack for writers. Here is a link: Write With Spike. There are writing prompts, interesting articles, and ongoing updates about workshops. It’s also a great community. ALL are welcome from beginners to Pulitzer Prize Winners—don’t worry, we won’t hold award-winning against you! (Haha.)

Thanks for being here y’all. Here is one of my favorite ever posts from the World Wide Web. So. Much. Resonance. I have adopted so very many Pissfingers over the years. No regrets. Okay—some regrets.