No, YOU have a type, shut up.

A friend and I frequently text one another links to tweets with cute animal photos; we used to do this anyway, because hello, otter tummies and chonky pups, but 2020 has elevated the regular influx of cuteness to a mental health requirement.

Anyway, earlier tonight I sent her this excellent tweet. You should really click on it and browse the equally wonderful replies, but in the interest of completeness I’ll tell you that it features what seems to be a standard poodle wearing an anxiety-relieving scarf* that makes it look like a forlorn elderly Bulgarian. Several hours later, my friend responded with a text saying “Matchmaker, matchmaker.”

At the exact moment I saw her text, I heard my husband in the other room singing to our dog, “Snackmuncher, snackmuncher, who wants a snack.”

I just thought you’d want to know that. Transatlantic serendipity, which is also the name of my new band.

* Do they make one for people? Asking for me and several billion friends.**

** Obviously I don’t really have several billion friends, partly because I don’t have time to have that many Zoom happy hours but mainly because as this story makes painfully clear, I attract one very specific type of person and there can’t be more than half a dozen of them.


      1. I don’t think we rewrite that one specifically, but in general we do a lot of rewriting. We also wander around quoting Prufrock and occasionally rewording it. Same with some Yeats. And I sing various things to my dog, tailored as needed to her experience and interests. Her name is Maisy, so a modified “Bicycle Built for Two” (with its “Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do”) is a staple.

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Deal!

          (I mean we also make lots of 13-year-old-boy wiener jokes and giggle about farts and such. And, like: I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, and a small toilet build there, of clay and wattles made. Nine big dumps will I take there, etc. Erudition? I dunno.)


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