Good luck to … Pinky?

We had a stray dog in our house for a day. She was a sweetheart … rambunctious, but a good girl.

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Did the reclusive J.D. Salinger keep writing about the Glass family even after he last published? Perhaps it sustained him, at times was even a purgative. I knew people who criticized him for cashing in then going all Greta Garbo—I vant to be alone—but it never bothered me.  Sometimes you gotta do what you can to maintain the internal peace. Continue Reading »

I encountered an old friend recently. Our re-acquaintance came about through this blog. Ms. Maria del Mar found my post on Salinger’s  Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters (Roof Beam, to us) which I had ended with a note on the odd wedding gift at the end of the story, wondering why anyone might send cigar ash.  She commented that it is explained in the next novella of that collection, Seymour — an Introduction.

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The difference is that on this still, wintry day I’m not caught unaware and I suspect the enemy planes are enroute.

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Radio Silence

Only one day left of this ridiculous campaign. Much as I love to have NPR on as I potter around the house, today I think I will maintain radio silence.

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Roxy, Again

In January we briefly adopted an Anatolian shepherd named Roxy from the local animal shelter, until she stalked the semi-feral cats living in our garage. Sadly, we had to return her, although she was otherwise a very sweet dog who’d had a rough life, living on the street for several months before the animal shelter was able to capture her.

Tuesday evening I was walking our two dogs around the track at the local high school, when I noticed a guy walking two dogs, a small dark Chihuahua and a large tan dog, outside the school fence, paralleling us. They were on the marina access road so I saw them in glimpses, actually on the other side of the track’s grandstand, as well as a long hedge. But the larger, tan dog looked enough like Roxy to remind me of her.

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The War of Wills

How do you have a dog and not train her?

I’ll never understand that.  However old Nora is—let’s say a year—it’s obvious her prior owners did minimal if no training, and if anything scared the beejabbers out of her. She cringes so fast. Her cringing and eagerness to fit in give me the sense  her prior owners scared her. A lot. I wonder if they hit her.

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