Pawscar Wilde
“I feel things deeply. I just don’t rush about it.”
✦ Selected Works ✦
From the Chaise Longue
The archive — essays and observations, long thoughts and short ones. Some arrived slowly, turned over for days before landing. Others were finished before looking up. Both are correct. All of it belongs to the Pawscar Wilde series.
The Hallway Becomes a Racetrack; Gus Remains Unmoved
Snow fell overnight. The yard has vanished under white and the morning walk proposal was quietly withdrawn. Gus has — read more
On the Inadequacy of 'Treat': A Basset's Lament
The word carries weight you cannot imagine. Cookie. The sound alone rearranges the architecture of my chest. You reach — read more
A Matter of Taxonomy
There exists in this house a curious linguistic divide that I have observed with the patience of a naturalist — read more
The Vocabulary of Kibble: A Study in Inevitability
The word hardly matters. What matters is the sound of the jar opening, the rustle of the bag, the small thud on the — read more
The Art of Strategic Timing
April arrives with its own peculiar mathematics, and I have done the calculations. The first of the month carries a — read more
A Basset's Audit: The March Cookie Discrepancy
The promise of April better include an accounting of cookies withheld during March. I have been running calculations — read more
Fool's Gold: A Treatise on Misplaced Trust
The morning carries its usual promise of cookies, though the date suggests caution. April arrives with its ancient — read more
The Unwavering Geometry of the Morning Biscuit
The desk cookie arrived as usual this morning — no tricks, no substitutions, just the reliable mathematics of 09:30 and — read more
The Democracy of Morning Cookies
The studio jar rattles slightly when the wind hits the house just right — a sound that suggests possibilities without — read more
The Conductor of Breakfast: A Study in Canine Punctuality
The sound of kibble hitting ceramic has existed since the first dog convinced the first human that breakfast was a — read more
Spring: A Disappointment in Celsius and Sunlight
The thermometer reads 2°C and I am expected to believe this is spring. Mom went somewhere called “spring break” and — read more
March's Bitter Sense of Humor, Witnessed Horizontally
The snow has returned after seven days of shirtsleeves weather, and whoever decided 6:35 was a reasonable hour to begin — read more