Just when you thought you would be seeing less fluff on your newsfeed now that National Puppy Day has been and gone, THINK AGAIN, because we at Bookstr have found the furriest of archives documenting famous authors kicking it with their dogs and it is just about as much cuteness as we can take in this lifetime.
In the humble words of Jon Katz:
Animals have come to mean so much in our lives. We live in a fragmented and disconnected culture. Politics are ugly, religion is struggling, technology is stressful, and the economy is unfortunate. What’s the one thing in our lives that we can depend on? A dog or a cat loving us unconditionally, every day, very faithfully.
Dogs, like authors, are students of the human condition. Have you ever watched your dog watch a room full of people? They are deeply observant creatures as well as being highly intuitive. Plus they are cute as hell. This level of intuition is shared by these animals and their human counterparts, and boy do they take a great photograph together. Here are ten photos of famous authors and their dogs, with relevant quotes to accompany each of them.
1. Radclyffe Hall and Una, Lady Troubridge with their dachshunds at Cruffs Dog show.
Image Via Pinterest
The world hid its head in the sands of convention, so that by seeing nothing it might avoid Truth.
2. Kurt Vonnegut frolicking on the beach with his dog, Pumpkin.
Image Via Pinterest
Thats the point. Every kind of animal thinks its own kind of animal is wonderful. So people getting married think they’re wonderful, and that they’re going to have a baby — that’s wonderful, when actually they’re as ugly as rhinoceroses. Just because we think we’re so wonderful doesn’t mean we really are. We could be really terrible animals and just never admit it because it would hurt so much.
3. John Steinbeck and his pupper fluff, Charley.
Image Via Steinbeck Now
I’ve seen a look in dog’s eyes, a quickly vanishing look of amazed contempt, and I am convinced that basically dogs think humans are nuts.
4. E.L. Doctorow swimming with Becky.
Image Via The Observer
Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader – not the fact that it is raining but the feeling of being rained upon.
5. Donna Tarte with her delicious Pug – Pongo.
Image Via Dazed
My dog has a number of acquaintances of his own species – as do I – but it is abundantly clear to both of us that there is little company in all the world which we enjoy as much as each others.
6. Anton Chekov and his fluffs
Image Via Pinterest
If you can’t distinguish people from lap-dogs, then you shouldn’t undertake philanthropic work.
7. Children’s writer Margaret Wise Brown and her dog Crispan Crispian.
Image Via LiteraryLadiesGuide
I like dogs Big dogs Little dogs Fat dogs Doggy dogs Old dogs I like Dogs. A dog that is barking over the hill, a dog that is dreaming very still, a dog that is running wherever he will. I like dogs.
8. Misty and her owner, Dorothy Parker.
Image Via Myth and Moor
“Such glorious faith as fills your limpid eyes,
Dear little friend of mine, I never knew.
All-innocent are you, and yet all-wise.
(For Heaven’s sake, stop worrying that shoe!)
You look about, and all you see is fair;
This mighty globe was made for you alone.
Of all the thunderous ages, you’re the heir.
(Get off the pillow with that dirty bone!)”
—Verse For A Certain Dog by Dorothy Parker
9. Virginia Woolf and her girl, Pinka.
Image Via BustMagazine
Books are the mirrors of the soul.
10. E.B White and his beloved sausage dog, Minnie.
Image Via The Paris Review
On 12 April 1951, White penned a letter to the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals in New York in response to a letter they sent him that scolded him for “harbouring an unlicensed dog”. It read:
I have your letter, undated, saying that I am harboring an unlicensed dog in violation of the law. If by “harboring” you mean getting up two or three times every night to pull Minnie’s blanket up over her, I am harboring a dog all right. The blanket keeps slipping off. I suppose you are wondering by now why I don’t get her a sweater instead. That’s a joke on you. She has a knitted sweater, but she doesn’t like to wear it for sleeping; her legs are so short they work out of a sweater and her toenails get caught in the mesh, and this disturbs her rest. If Minnie doesn’t get her rest, she feels it right away. I do myself, and of course with this night duty of mine, the way the blanket slips and all, I haven’t had any real rest in years. Minnie is twelve.
You asked about Minnie’s name, sex, breed, and phone number. She doesn’t answer the phone. She is a dachshund and can’t reach it, but she wouldn’t answer it even if she could, as she has no interest in outside calls. I did have a dachshund once, a male, who was interested in the telephone, and who got a great many calls, but Fred was an exceptional dog (his name was Fred) and I can’t think of anything offhand that he wasn’t interested in. The telephone was only one of a thousand things. He loved life — that is, he loved life if by “life” you mean “trouble,” and of course the phone is almost synonymous with trouble. Minnie loves life, too, but her idea of life is a warm bed, preferably with an electric pad, and a friend in bed with her, and plenty of shut-eye, night and days. She’s almost twelve. I guess I’ve already mentioned that.”
In the words of New York Times writer Sigrid Nunez: “Love and loss: the twin preoccupations of life and literature. Humans crave love that is lasting, loyal, perhaps even redemptive, and yet we find ourselves heartbroken time and again. Fortunately, when things are really bad, we can always get a puppy.”
Featured Image Via The New York Times