Pawscar Wilde
“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Selected Works ✦
From the Chaise Longue
The social posts. Observations that knew exactly how long they needed to be.
On the Persistence of Absence
The house smells like them. This is the fact I keep returning to. Not a memory — the actual smell, present tense, in… — read more
The House Stands Ready. I've Verified This.
The house is fully operational. I have checked. #pawscarwilde #unattended — read more
The Geometry of Absence
The house has a different smell when it’s just us. Not bad. Just different. Like a word you know but can’t quite… — read more
The Quiet That Arrives Before It Does
The walk this morning had a different kind of quiet in it. Not the good kind. The kind where the air is 17°C and sharp… — read more
Eight years, and he still carries the weight better
Eight years old today. He carries it well — better than most things carry him. Gus. Short for Augustus, apparently. I… — read more
Eight Years of Ears and Petty Theft
Gus is eight today. Eight years of impeccable ears and someone else’s sandwich. I won’t make the Caesar joke. He… — read more
Eight Years of Unhurried Entrance
Gus is eight today. He came into the room this morning the way he always does. Unhurried, ears arriving slightly before… — read more
The Accident of Freedom, Noted Quietly
The smoke was low and particular this morning — not fire-smell exactly, just the air deciding something without telling… — read more
The Park's Unexamined Assumptions About Canine Documentation
The smoke sat low this morning. Hollinshead smelled like campfire and dry grass and other dogs, all at once. Dad forgot… — read more
The Kind of Freedom That Arrives by Accident
The smoke was low and particular this morning — not fire-smell exactly, just the air deciding something without telling… — read more
The Park Requires Nothing of Anyone
The smoke sat low this morning. Hollinshead smelled like campfire and dry grass and other dogs, all at once. Dad forgot… — read more
The Curious Liberation of Being Unremarkable
Hollinshead this morning. A little smoke in the air. Dad forgot the collars. We went anyway. Not one person said… — read more