My Memoir by Watson – Chapter 4

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I feel sorry for the cats. They don’t get to go to puppy school. It’s epic. Six dogs sit around a room and wait for the lady with the treats to start handing them out.

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My Memoir by Watson – Chapter 3

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I’ve been living in the fast lane. Or at least I’ve been spending hours and hours in the car. Every time we go out, we go twice, and we always end up back at home. I like home. It’s where my bones are. And my bed. And socks.

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My Memoir by Watson – Chapter 2

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It’s been all go these past two weeks — going on the kitchen floor, on the living room floor, on the hall floor, and occasionally on the grass.

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Why I Seldom Check My Breasts

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The fear of discovering breast cancer is one which I suspect I share with many women. Because we’d all rather enjoy another carefree day.

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My Memoir by Watson – Chapter 1

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It was a dark and stormy night… when, with a good deal of whining and wailing, my mother gave birth to nine of us. Gone were the cosy days of compact living in a snug sac. I was licked off by a rough tongue then flipped over for a quick check of my private parts. Turns out I’m one adorable son of a bitch.

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What if we could learn to ask: having a bad head day?

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The road forward is never a straight line. It throws kinks, curves and the occasional traffic jam. This is true for everyone. We all have days that excel in being awesome or awful. And if we have the concept of bad hair days, what if we could also introduce bad head days?

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