Because Vivienne Can Be a Very Bad Girl

Say you’ve been struggling to publish a book. As in, struggling. As in, STRUH-GUL-LING. As in, for years now. For years. So many years that you’ve actually finished ANOTHER book in the mean time, which you are also, now struh-gul-ling to publish. Then, say you see this dog one day. And say you admire said dog. His plush coat! His strong teeth! His ability to fetch and O! Bring back the stick! But his ability to … write? And … publish? What? What? Say it ain’t so.

But it is. It is so. A dog has published a book, entitled Pet Me Safely. Yes, published a book. And been photographed in fabulous and fashionable places, far more fabulous and fashionable than the places you’ve been photographed — in a cockpit, on a surfboard, for all you know, in front of the Taj Mahal. You would feel jealousy. You would feel woe. You would feel the inexplicably bizarre nature of your industry threaten to pull you down into an abyss like so much quicksand.

But then the dog would lick your hand, or wag its tail, and you could not longer feel anger. You would scratch his ears and say, good boy. Good boy. And the dog would wag his tail again, and go home to write his new tome: A Dog’s Guide to Guns N Roses and How Awesome They Are.

P.S.: the dedication is the same as the dedication from Cate Marvin’s new book, because, well, AWESOME.

Pet Me Safely

for boys and their mothers

Remember, kids, no petting is safe petting.

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