The Weekly Dog was the newsletter I published when I was in fifth grade. I spent every Wednesday night doing it and it came out on Fridays, distributed to everyone in my class. It was basically a gossip rag about the dogs in my neighborhood; there were also personal ads in the back which said things like, "8 y.o. Schnauzer mix, male. Looking for a young female Dachshund to take my mind off my troubles." The other day, for some reason, I remembered my vice-principal pointing to that drawing and saying, mainly to himself, "See him? He's looking for a young female Dachshund." Looking at it now, I see that it's to some extent a disturbing retelling of the social lives of these dogs' owners (living on the Upper West Side of Manhattan in the late 80s), filtered through the mind of a child. This is an important totem of my weirdly adult childhood and a lot like everything I still do, in some ways.