by Sue Owens Wright
How do you know when your life has gone totally to the dogs? It could be when you’re published in most of the wag mags, and your third dog lover’s mystery is about to be published. Another clue might be when you’re nominated eight times for a Mighty Maxwell, the coveted medallion awarded annually by the Dog Writers Association of America for the best writing about dogs, and you actually win a couple of those swell dog tags to wear around your neck. You also could be going to the dogs when you’re invited to Basset Hound Waddles, Slobberfests, and Droolapaloozas to autograph your books and to talk about them on TV and radio. For me, it’s all of the above.
At writers’ conferences I’ve attended over the years, I’ve heard the oft-repeated phrase: “Write what you know.” I never really understood what that meant. What those writing instructors should have told their students to do was write about what’s close to the heart. I believe the same advice applies to anyone who seeks fulfillment in life: Follow your heart.
Edith Wharton once wrote, “My little dog—a heartbeat at my feet.” There’s nothing closer to my heart than my dogs. Turns out that my best chance for literary success lay right at my feet all along. It was only when I began writing about what I have adored my entire life—dogs—that my work started gaining some recognition.
Perhaps it’s no coincidence that I was born on January 2, the day of the year when Sirius, the dog star in the constellation Canis Major, appears in the east and orbits across the northern hemisphere. Whenever I have felt a little lost on my life’s course, I like to think I’m being watched over by that bright blue eye of the dog leaping up in the night sky.
I keep a New Yorker cartoon by George Booth displayed near my computer. It shows a writer seated at his desk. Arms folded across his chest, he puffs on a pipe as he stares at the blank page in his typewriter. Clearly, he’s suffering from writer’s block. Surrounding him in his makeshift workspace on the back porch are a dozen or so dogs of various breeds. Through the open door, where his wife is standing and looking exasperated, you can see many more dogs inside the house and others running up and down the stairs. She declares in the caption, ”Write about dogs!”
That cartoon has become my mantra. While I may not have that many dogs, you still have to move one to get the best seat in the house. Whenever I’ve been in doubt about which path I’m meant to follow—and like my bassets, I’ve strayed far afield now and then—Booth’s cartoon reminds me. My dogs continue to provide me with endless inspiration and inexhaustible material for my books and articles.
Siriusly, my life has gone completely to the dogs, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.