AuthorMcclanaghan, Jen

Our house is held down by linoleum, roses from the 90s glued in rows, decades on the verge of bloom. We hold on through recession, through foreclosure next door, carpet misted in mercaptans, the name for cat urine eroding, and the myth sometimes the truth of letting go. In May we spent weeks applying for puppies-- weeks into silence for dogs named after reindeer, after country singers. One litter seized from an owner who cut their tails to look cute, who kept the mother chained where she probably stayed her entire life, was named for sports cars-- Lamborghini the pup we most wanted. Even weather is behavior you can't pin down. Our math and science, our greatest machines can't predict all outcomes, all assholes and abusers and storms, or those on the losing end--bad day, bad break, bank account red. In town, Vienna...

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