When the world feels uncertain, we always have dogs

BACK AT HOME I HAVE DOGS The doctor, as rare as a unicorn, is protecting me from her disease. When she covers up again it is like watching her become mute As her expressions vanish behind that pale blue screen. And as I leave I notice a screwed up tissue, possibly snot-filled by the absent owner, Now occupying the centre of the floor, repelling all-comers as if it were The coil of a poisonous snake, or a lump of excrement, or a hole into which Children might vanish. Back at home I have dogs; one nimble, Drip-dry husky, the other, an ageing version with a coat As thick as a duvet and as absorbent as a gasping sponge. While I cook for my turn to host the book club meeting for a book I read as I cook, I stop chopping onions only to check emails and see That today, in the USA, my magpie memoir, George, Is on the Oprah Daily Best Memoirs list for 2023.