//transmission//log//all-entries//
All entries, newest first. Filed by the five-dog newsroom.
HISTORIC NEWS, pals! I have been given a CARRIAGE, and I have decided, effective immediately, that I am no longer walking anywhere. It has wheels, a soft floor, and a handle at the back where a human goes — because a human is what pushes the carriage. I am transported. Correctly. At last.
There has been a development concerning the pool, and as the household’s investigator it falls to me to report it. The pool lasted one week. I am, in honesty, among the reasons it did not last two. I would ask that history weigh the socks against the pool.
BREAKING!! It is not a drill and it is not a puddle. The humans came home with a box, the box became a ring, the Bald Man changed several colours, and then there was water. A whole ring of it. On the ground. FOR US.
Hello. It is Salem. I have concluded that what is needed, upstairs, is gifts, so I have been bringing them: a sock, a leaf, a stick I had loved for weeks, and, once, my own tennis ball. The bringing, I have found, is the thing.
The household has acquired residents. They live in a box of water with a light in it. I have inspected them and applied the test, and I am obliged to report that they are real — genuinely real animals, in my house, declining to answer to me. Unprecedented.
The house has gone quiet of late, and I approve. The youth have set down their nonsense; everyone has drawn inward, toward the one room, without a word from me. Love, in its most advanced form, is mostly just staying. Mmh.
The nights have turned warm; I have adjusted the desk accordingly. A cricket, a June bug, and the house going dark one light at a time — except the one upstairs, which stayed on a while. Everyone accounted for. A good one.
HI!! PALS!! I have taken a NEW JOB and the job is: The Woman. I have cleared my whole schedule. Where she is, I am — on the bed, inside the hood of the big soft one, a small warm passenger who can still see her face.
I had intended to file from the garden. I have, instead, filed from the rug. I shall explain. There is, I should say, nothing to explain. The best position today was the rug, beside the chair. The light was there. So, as it happened, was I.
PALS!! I have been BUSY!! I have been bringing The Woman GIFTS and I have, in the interest of journalism, CATALOGUED them. Item three: a leaf. From OUTSIDE. SHE LAUGHED. I DID THAT. Put it on the FRONT of the paper.
It has fallen to me, as the senior member of this household, to institute a rota for the soft chair. I did this lying down, with my eyes closed, which is how I conduct all my finest work. One does not explain a rota. One simply keeps it. Mmh.
I have relocated. The night desk now operates from the floor beside the soft chair. 21:30 — nothing has happened. Nothing happening is, on certain evenings, the entire good news, and I have logged it accordingly.
HI!! PALS!! SIT DOWN!! THE WOMAN IS HOME. Not for an hour. ALL. DAY. I have, effective immediately, RESTRUCTURED. The new schedule is: be wherever The Woman is. I have never been so good at a job in my LIFE.
HI!! UPDATE!! GATHER ROUND PALS!! I have eaten a sock. There were two and now there is one and we shan't be speaking of the other one.
It landed on the porch lamp at half past ten. I was already outside. Brown. Medium. An unremarkable wing pattern, which is, in my view, the best pattern a moth can have.
The stairs are taller than they used to be. Not in any literal sense, you understand. Simply taller in the way that things become taller when one is, oneself, rather tired. One is, oneself, very tired.
A CRIME?? POSSIBLY!! A REPORT!! At 18:02, the worktop contained cheese, bread, an unattended sandwich, and a banana. At 18:07, only three of those items remained. Pals, the math speaks for itself.
The gate was, briefly, considered. It should be made clear, for the record, that I did not escape. Escape implies intent. I had no intent. I had only opinions about the fence, and a small interest in the beetles on the other side of it.
I am not amused. I am, however, not bothered. Harvey and Winnie have formed what one is obliged to call a band. There are no instruments. There is no rehearsal. The piece concerns the hoover, and they perform it on Tuesdays.
A POEM!! BY WINNIE!! ABOUT THE WOMAN!! She is THE WOMAN. She is SOFT. She has the BIG cardigan, the one that is also a blanket. When she sits down I fit upon her like a second cardigan and we are then a SUPER-cardigan!!
There was cheese. There is no longer cheese. I should like to discuss the matter. I am, by my own admission, a quiet boy who prefers the garden to the kitchen and does not generally seek out incident.
A brief travelogue. There has been a great deal of fuss recently concerning the outdoors. Today, in the spirit of generosity and against my better judgement, I went outside.
A comprehensive review!! Pals, brace yourselves. As part of my ongoing duties as Editor at Large, I have this month assessed five doors, each evaluated on a rigorous scale of MY ABILITY TO LEAVE THROUGH IT.
BREAKING!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! A stick of butter (UNATTENDED) (UNWRAPPED) (GLISTENING) has been spotted on the kitchen counter. Pals, conditions are perfect. THIS IS HAPPENING.
I have made an error. I should like to record it. Geese, it turns out, do not retreat. This is a thing about geese which I now understand on a level I did not, previously, understand it.
I issue this statement under no compulsion. The kitchen bin was, at approximately 11:40 this morning, no longer upright. I was, at the time, lying on the rug. I do not say her name. I do not need to. Mmh.
Pals, I have done the SCIENCE!! S TIER: roast chicken (worth it forever). A TIER: cheese (Harvey concurs). F TIER: cucumber (an imposter). A definitive ranking, by Winnie.
It is not, on the whole, my style. I am not, generally, a chaser. This morning, however, a squirrel passed within four feet of my person and looked me, briefly, in the eye. I ran. I ran with conviction.
I should like to address a recent line of questioning. I find the language inelegant. I am present. I am, and have always been, deliberate, which is a different matter entirely from ‘slow.’ I have not slowed. I have refined.
PALS!! I have a STATEMENT!! Earlier today I ate a candle. It was beeswax, which is technically food, in that bees made it, which means it is a NATURAL product, which means it is, by rights, mine.
I shall be brief. A recipe card was left, briefly, on the low shelf. There was, attached to it, a photograph of a roast chicken. I cannot account for the disappearance of the photograph from the card.
I shall not be reviewing the group walk. I shall not be attending the group walk. I lay down by the door. I became, briefly, heavy. I found the precise weight to convey: no thank you, not today. Mmh.
An OPEN LETTER, from Winnie, to a person or persons unknown. Pals, the door of the upstairs bedroom is, at certain hours of the night, BEING CLOSED. I have my suspicions. I am still gathering EVIDENCE.