Lots of small stories are fanning out from my settling in on Apex Authors, a private Face book membership page for people who want to master the art and science of self-publishing, stories that are spilling over into the stories that my son is bringing home from Lollypop Farm about the dogs in the various kennel suites.
There’s Gotti, the six year old pit bull terrier mix who is the king of his suite area as he’s the only male mixed in with
3-4 female dogs bitches. One is a four month old pit-puppy that Gotti is very protective about. When the vet tech arrives to check on the pup or take him off for some kind of routine exam, Gotti watches where that puppy goes.“Bring him back to me,” he says with his eyes.
There are the stories of my own dogs, Jasper, Josephine and Tessa – their real lives circle around in my head as if they are part of a carousel – as I write and revise the Tessa chapter of my book.
There are the larger, real stories unwinding on both national and world stages: we are less than a month away from a presidential election, a 14 year old
child, young woman was flown to a hospital in Britain after being shot, on a bus, in her own country, because she defied the Taliban, insisting that she had the right to go to school. To which the Taliban replied, “No, you don’t. And, if you survive our first attempt to kill you, we’ll come back a second time and we will kill you.”
This is a horrifying lunacy that swirls round and round on that carousel of other stories, all of them individual threads weaving together into whole cloth that blankets the world with a beautiful yet frightening tapestry.
We need more Gotti’s in the world: the quiet protectors who keep watch over the lives that come into their sphere of influence, whether by chance or design.
We need more Gotti’s in the world because their ability to strip life down to its purest expression cuts through the bullshit.
Because, God knows, we need less bullshit.