Wednesday, November 30, 2016


Pete took his new five-dollar dog bone outside and trotted off toward the woods where the dirt is soft and easily dug.

"Pete!" I called after him. "Don't you bury that brand new dog bone." 

Pete turned around. 

"I wasn't going to," he said. 

"Okay," I replied, "Good."

Pete started back. Midway, he turned and bounced over to the truck. 

He crawled deep underneath. 

He dropped the five-dollar bone and backed out. 

"See," he said. 

And I did. 




         

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Saturday, November 26, 2016


It was definitely a black, black Friday. Three big dogs and only one can of dog feed on the worst possible day in the History of worst possible days to go shopping.









Thursday, November 24, 2016


I was going to order a fancy Thanksgiving dinner from the grocery store for the boys and me. I realized, however, yesterday at lunch, that Thanksgiving was tomorrow, or today, however you want to look at it. 

I called, nonetheless.

There was no getting through.

We'll have pancakes. Turkey shaped pancakes.



     

Sunday, November 20, 2016


Pete and I have been out five times already this morning to check if Summer has come back. 

It hasn't.






Saturday, November 19, 2016


If you get close enough to Pete, and I do, you can still smell the puppy on him.


Sunday, November 13, 2016


Some days I step outside of my house and feel as if I am a guest, an outsider, who has rented this life and beautiful property as a getaway, a retreat from complications I have long forgotten. 


      

Wednesday, November 9, 2016


Pete doesn't know how much longer he can stand being cooped up in the house. 'I'm going bonkers,' he says. And it's true. He is going bonkers. 




Wednesday, November 2, 2016


Pete got hit by a car. I suppose you'd like to know why he was in the road, and I'd love to tell you, but it's a long, complicated story. Let it suffice to say that, at the time, Pete was not entirely my dog, I just loved him as such, and it really wasn't my business to be keeping him out of the road. Besides, I wasn't home. But Pete came to my house after he got hit. He wanted me to fix him. Not them. So, he's mine now. It's in the rule book. And I will be keeping him out of the road from here on, mostly because I love him, but partly because I could buy a couple fancy dogs for the amount it cost to repair him.