Jan is a dear friend of mine, and is a dog lover, as I am. (As we are, really; DH and I now have a pack of four.)
One of Jan’s dogs is dying of cancer, and being the wonderful writer that she is, she has written a tribute to Reggie.
I am lying in bed with 170 pounds of dog: one big, one medium. They are, I regret to admit out loud, in the same proportion in my heart. I do love them both. But the big one, the one who lives inside my soul; he is dying.
It’s lovely, but I warn you: grab a tissue.
I’ve been reading blog posts this morning, trying to catch up after a break. Many of the library/ian blogs that I read have been noting how many books they read throughout the year.
I find this fascinating.
Frankly, I have no idea how many books I read last year. I know I read lots yesterday: I finished one book and read two others. Great way to spend the day. But for the year? No clue. Lots. Even more if you count the books begun but not finished, set aside for a number of reasons. They didn’t grab me. I wasn’t in the mood for that genre. Possibly both. I can’t bring myself to completely set them aside, so they pile up next to my side of the bed, reproaching me for not having finished them.
Reading, for me, is an escape. Relaxation. A trip to another time and place. An adventure. A romance.
The idea that I would keep a tally of what I read would somehow turn it into a competition, or an obligation…..which would take the fun out of the pastime.
So, dear reader, you’ll get no tally from me. Just a gentle nudge to grab a book and dive in.
In a similar vein, DH and I watched the movie, “The Jane Austin Book Club” this weekend. It was charming and has made me want to actually read Jane Austin. (I know, I know. A librarian that hasn’t read Austin? Scandalous. But there it is.) Perhaps I’ll put that on my list for this year. Hopefully, they won’t end up in the pile next to the bed. But if they do? That’s okay, too. I’m not keeping track.