I hit a plot snag a few months ago that made me feel like this:
I'm pretty sure my dogs, Thistle and Pepper, noticed.
To give you some background information, whenever I'd tell Thistle and Pepper it was time to write before Said Unfortunate Plot Snag (S.U.P.S.), they would race upstairs to the den and lie in their bed behind my chair. They would stay there while I wrote, every day. Then came S.U.P.S., and the traitors--er, sweet little guys--decided to spend each day on the couch downstairs.
I'm thinking my dogs picked up on the stress that was rolling off me even though I wasn't screaming, crying, or banging my head on my desk. I may have whined a little more than usual. And I paced. I guess that means it wasn't their doggy-sixth-super-sense--the one that alerts animals to earthquakes that are about to occur and meteorites before they hit--that made my pooches rethink their writing careers.
But still. Aren't dogs supposed to be faithful? Man's best friend and all that?
I can't hold a grudge, of course. They're too cute and cuddly, and I love them. Besides, Thistle is behind my chair right now. Pepper...well, not everyone is cut out to be a writer.
Note: To see another adorable dog, go to Ben's blog and read about Linus and his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.