I should introduce my basset hound. Her name is Roxanne, and she will be ten years old this year. My husband got her when she was a year old from a family who couldn’t care for her anymore. Roxanne is a pure bred basset, but the family gave her away for free. It didn’t occur to us at the time that such a generous offer may indicate something about her temperament. At least she’s grown out of her need to eat leather (shoes, wallets, etc.)
Roxanne warbles for attention, for food, for love, or just to hear the sound of her own beautiful voice. She sounds a lot like Chewbacca from Star Wars. And sometimes she makes a clicking sound in her throat, like a dolphin. It’s fascinating. She also enjoys carrots, dog food, and whatever happens to be on our plates at any given time. Her favorite delicacy, however, is toilet paper. She recently got hold of a roll of it and took a huge bite from the middle, like it was a dog bone.
While it’s annoying to have to stop in the middle of writing a pivotal scene in order to take her outside, it’s often nice to have her around. Writing is a very solitary endeavor; it’s comforting to have her nearby on her blanket, softly snoring, twitching in her dog dreams.