To distract myself from the fact that my dog is dying, I check the headlines. This is August 2017, so the news is not good, but it keeps my gaze from drifting over to my dog’s curled-up body, trembling on his bed in the corner. In a lot of ways, reading the news is like watching my dog die, just easier to bear.
Many of the articles anticipate the moment the moon will block out the sun and a narrow strip of America will go dark. Others show a crowd of angry white men carrying backyard-cookout torches across the University of Virginia campus. They could be on their way to a luau, if not for their humorless demeanor.
