“Wow,” I said to myself. “My puppy hasn’t destroyed a single thing and we’ve gotten through teething.” Some thoughts should never be put into words, let alone verbalized. That’s just asking for trouble. Sure enough, at the age of ten months, Moke began tearing up just about everything he could get his tiny teeth on, including:
- My backyard–his older brother and sister have taught him to appreciate the taste of grass and dirt, even when frozen.
- The tissue box on the bottom shelf of the console, making my office look like it was blanketed in snow.
- The maps, masks, notebooks, and pens stored in the driver’s door side pocket of my funky RV.
- The wall covering at the back of that same RV. I had to duct tape the tears and cover the whole thing with hexagonal peel-and-stick faux-marble tile.
Destructo-mode has continued. With one or two exceptions, the only thing little Moke doesn’t seem to be tearing up is his toy collection and my socks and shoes, which thankfully he tends to simply relocate.
Thinking back, I’ve realized that at this age, my four-year-old pup, Misha, and his sister, Harley, who visited a lot in those days, ate a corner of the couch, the front of the post at the bottom of the staircase (which in case you were wondering is called the newel post), and the carpet on three of the stairs.
I had just forgotten.
That made me wonder. What do we forget about writing?
It hit me pretty quickly. We tend to forget about writing highs and lows. Well, at least the lows. While that’s a good thing since it keeps us working on our books, it might help to remember that we’re going to run into writing highs and lows. And, just like surviving the puppy onslaught, we’ll survive all those writing challenges and do just fine.
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