[Snapshots from Oak Ridge] My Writing Companion

When I sit outside to write, my dog Sunday insists on being nearby, even when she doesn’t particularly want to be because it’s very hot, as it was when I took this photo. She crawls into the shade under the car or right under the bench where I sit, ready to bounce up and follow me should I make a move toward the cooler confines of the house. Sunday was something of a default dog; we adopted her after giving up two previous rescue dogs, because she was one of the rare puppies that the rescue group we were working with had available. If it were completely up to me, because I gravitate toward big dogs—labs, retrievers, hounds—I would not have chosen a terrier mix who wouldn’t weigh much more than 10 pounds full grown. But circumstances being what they were, we adopted Sunday last June. Now I have a constant companion willing to hang out in the yard on one of the summer’s hottest days, just because that’s where I am. I adore her and believe the feeling is mutual. (After I took this photo, I retreated inside, where Sunday gratefully collapsed into her dog bed and took a nap.)

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