The game plan, the call from the huddle, was to spend the winter querying and finding an agent to represent my novel. In between the polite form letters and e-rejections, I would work on the sequel and the rough draft of a third manuscript.
From the sidelines, however, the coach sent in Henry, a six-month-old hound-lab mix with irresistibly soulful hazel eyes and the featured rescued dog in the Pet of the Week segment on Northwest Today.
I walked off the set and talked myself out of it. You must query. You must network. Puppies take work. You must resist.
Did I mention Henry’s irresistible eyes?
By nightfall, Henry, now renamed Sawyer, was sniffing out his new digs while I lugged in a forty-pound bag of puppy food and rummaged the kitchen cabinets for a suitable bowl, a blue one to compliment his eyes.
Weekend mornings, reserved for hammering away at drafts and rewrites between coffee refills and wiping jam from the laptop keyboard, now include the occasional rub on Sawyer’s chest, getting up to investigate mysterious rustling and thumps down the hall, and the frequent trips into spring showers when Sawyer has pressing business outside.
What’s the saying? Man plans, God chuckles?
I suppose if we waited for conditions to be perfect, couples would never have babies, and authors would never start writing their books.
And Sawyer does his part; he licks the jam from my fingers.
BTW: The difficult part of this post…getting Sawyer to stay still to snap his picture.