Yesterday, I had just finished printing out a poem for my next book, when someone knocked. It was Molly, come to visit me with her dog, Silver.
I am clueless what triggered her, but the moment Silver crossed my threshold, she shot straight to my printer tray, grabbed the poem, and commenced chewing. I was stunned, and couldn’t think of a thing to say other than, “My poem!”.
But Molly, looking quite embarrassed for her dog, replied, “I’m sorry, Paul, but you see — Silver has good taste in poetry.”