Here am I, struggling along in my world, and there is the dog, dreaming in hers.
Sitting on my purple couch, working on my next book with my little dog sleeping next to me, I thought, Here am I, struggling along in my world, and there is the dog, dreaming in hers. Where are we both, really, as this little planet where we live, tucked away in an unimportant corner of an unknowable universe, spins on? This is what Henry Beston says in “The Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod”: In a world older and more complete than ours, [animals] move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth.
~ Eleanor Lerman