The Problem of Dogs

A few minutes ago, my real life dogs heard me exhorting Blocky (this is either Blocky 3 or Blocky 4 or possibly even Blocky 5 - I've lost count. Honestly, I've had Siamese fighting fish with more survival instinct who lasted longer: my last one was only Fang 3.) to please move over and get a pork chop. They came over and poked me with their noses for a bit until I agreed to stop talking to the dog on the computer and start talking to the dogs in the room. That's the thing - Minecraft dogs are as much work as and arguably more than real dogs. Real dogs can be more or less counted on not to fall off cliffs or stairs, for one thing, and they also eat a wide variety of food, not just pork chops. I believe that my dog Pixel starved to death one sad night due to a sudden and mysterious shortage of pigs. A tragic end but spending half or more of every day running around with a sword looking for feral pigs - I ask you, is it any kind of a life? One demands more. Still, I'm used to Blocky now and I'd be sad - will be sad - when he succumbs inevitably and then there will be a Blocky 6.

In other news, I suddenly decided that as the Queen and founder of New Arcadia, I deserved better digs than either the Inn, my funky mountain getaway or the end of group rowhouse that reminds me of Baltimore. Therefore, I built myself a kind of split level mansion in many hideous Lilly Pulitzer type preppy colors. All the doors are double doors, because that's easier for Blocky to manage and all the stairs are double stairs, ditto. We the Queen are nothing if not accommodating to our canine subject. And, because the Queen gets hungry - and bored - there is also now a fine dining establishment in New Arcadia. Les Cochons D'Or is now taking reservations. The kitchen is suitably small, cramped and miserable.

Blocky, We Hardly Knew Ye

Well, I briefly had a companion in my loneliness. I mean, sure, I can go around pretending that New Arcadia is filled with the happy sounds of children playing and bums panhandling for spare change down in the souk but in reality, it's just me, alone, in a world of unfurnished yet charming and extremely affordable bungalows. All that changed though, when I met Blocky. He was hard to tame - I think it took like seven bones - but then, lo, he was mine, following me everywhere, falling off things and generally getting in my way. I worried about his inability to walk through doors - well, I guess you don't need to learn about doors when you can teleport through walls, there is that - and his random, annoying, persistent bark. My daughter remarked that I was being nicer to him than to the three real hairy hounds that are farting gently beneath my desk even now and yeah, I suppose I was. Blocky got taken out to run in the woods, which hardly ever happens in real life, because real life is full of joggers with no sense of humor who mysteriously object to unleashed dogs.

It was one of those runs that proved Blocky's downfall. We were scouting for caves even though I had a feeling that having Blocky in a cave might be a huge mistake, given his total and absolute lack of coordination or common sense - my real life dogs hardly ever fall off cliffs or into lava - but we were going to give it a try anyway. All was going well but I was a little lost and it was getting dark. I would have dug in for the night but I spotted two more dogs and, since I am determined to replicate my world in Minecraft and also am crazy, I want two more dogs. I tamed them quickly . . . and then the creeper came. In every life the sun must set. RIP Blocky. You will be missed.