Two New York Dogs for Today

I) A French Bulldog eager to get into our building



from "Ediya: an Interview" in Without Saying
Richard Howard

We must never forget that none of us is
infallible—not even the youngest. Now
suppose you start your contraption, just to see ...
If something goes wrong this time, we could
always send out for tapes, whatever they are—
that poor boy seemed to think everyone had some,
didn't he? Now I'll just say a few words. [Now
I'll just say a few words.] Wonderful! Let's begin ...
Daisy, please stop that! She doesn't like machines,
and to be honest with you, neither do I ...
I side with Daisy—with all dogs, actually,
provided they're small enough to hold on my lap;
you know what I mean, there's a kind of profane
immortality to be achieved by moving
down the scale of such creatures—if that's down ...
(There, she'll be quiet now: no more protesting.)
Of course you're right, it is useful: recording
what's been spoken makes for a sort of judgment
on speech, anyone's speech. As we're reminded
each time the police are obliged to warn us:
Whatever you say may be used in evidence
against you. Has that ever happened to you?

II) A Yellow Lab considering a purchase at Three Lives Books



From Flush
Virginia Woolf

From such phrases, from the accent of praise or derision in which they were spoken, at the pillar-box or outside the public-house where the footmen were exchanging racing tips, Flush knew before the summer had passed that there is no equality among dogs: there are high dogs and low dogs. Which, then, was he? No sooner had Flush got home than he examined himself carefully in a looking-glass. Heaven be praised, he was a dog of birth and breeding! His head was smooth; his eyes were prominent but not gozzled; his feet were feathered; he was the equal of the best-bred cocker in Wimpole Street. He noted with approval the purple jar from which he drank--such are the privileges of rank; he bent his head quietly to have the chain fixed to his collar--such are its penalties. When about this time Miss Barrett observed him staring in the glass, she was mistaken. He was a philosopher, she thought, meditating the difference between appearance and reality. On the contrary, he was an aristocrat considering his points.