Okay, “mug” is probably not the right verb. Actual mugging would be notably unwise, given Emma Dog’s size and disposition. Call it raconteur’s license (a concept I just made up, having no shame.)
(Crap! Was that just a sonic boom? A big blustery puffing boom just came from out back somewhere. Emma barked but doesn’t seem frightened enough to want in. I went back to check and heard a jet, making me wonder if some flyboy’s getting a little fly with the law. Also there seems to be a near-subliminal rumble continuing … dwindling now.)
Okay, back to our tale. A few minutes ago I sat at the dining room table eating what I guess is brunch, and drinking an enormous mug of coffee to prepare me for the horrors of the writing life. (Okay, they’re not all that horrid. Who’s telling this?) It’s a warm NM autumn day and I had the back door open partway for ventilation. Something, possibly the clacking of greedy little beaks on plastic, drew my attention to the brick back porch.
Where I saw at least three mourning doves around and even in Emma’s food bowl, scarfing her chow. Outraged, I yelled at them, “Hey, you dang symbols of peace! Get out of there!” (I really did. I talk that way. If you’ve met me, you know. Because I’m in a creative field, I get to be called eccentric. As opposed to, you know, nuts.)
They ignored me. Apparently icons tend to feel entitled in the animal kingdom too. But then from the left came an avenging black streak as Emma raced to defend her food.
You can bet the doves took off pretty briskly then.
All apparently escaped unscathed. Emma isn’t really bloodthirsty so much as she is protective. Very, very protective.
On other fronts … hope you had a fine Halloween and Day of the Dead. Mine went fine, especially Halloween, which I spent watching old horror movies at John and Gail Miller’s. Been a bit busy to log on the last few days, what with the new Annja, Wild Cards rewrites, and forging happily ahead on The Dinosaur Lords.
Expect great news on the writing front soon. I do!
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