It’s not that important.
And the winner of the 2007 MorCrack FerGarthy Award is …
Per Petterson! Out Stealing Horses. (A New York Times Best Book of 2007.)
I too have a dog. Her name is Lyra. What breed she is it would not be easy to say. It’s not that important. We have been out already, with a torch, on the path we usually take, along the lake with its few millimetres of ice up against the bank where the dead rushes are yellow with autumn, and the snow fell silently, heavily out of the dark sky above, making Lyra sneeze with delight. Now she lies there close to the stove, asleep. It has stopped snowing. As the day wears on it will all melt. I can tell that from the thermometer. The red column is rising with the sun.
* Lyra. It’s always a good move to name a dog after a constellation.
* Is it hard (or, not easy) to say what breed the dog is, or just not important? I think you should choose one. Or, better yet, describe the dog. Of course, that would involve details. Let me ask this: Is it brown?
* A torch, of course. Handier than a flashlight! Or, in Norway, does torch refer to flashlight?
* Millimetres thick? Or is it a horizontal measurement? Not clear.
* … dead rushes … yellow with autumn. Redundant?
* Silently falling snow – the deadliest.
* Heavily falling snow – the 2nd deadliest.
* Sky, still above. Check.
* Lyra sneezes with delight. Or so we assume, since it is the universal dog gesture of delight at the sight of snow.
* What will melt? The snow? The dog? The stove? All three? We must assume the snow.
* I give up.