In mid-January, “even the moon shines with only half a heart,” as Jane Kenyon put it (read her if you get the chance)
Category: White Fang
Cotton in the Canyons
January is made for old Hobbits like me. There is rain in the hills, cotton in the canyons. It’s a good month for bulky sweaters…throaty old singers…snoring dogs.
The Wolf Who Cried Boy
These are the relationships that now define me: Smartacus and Suzanne, plus Catty Cakes, the maestro of my life. Plus White Fang, my bombshell of a dog.
I Miss AYSO
I’ve been taking White Fang to a nearby soccer field, where she sniffs the stinky scents left by the kids who play there on weekends and thinks -- momentarily at least -- how good they might taste on toast.
Life is Nasty, Life is Great
My buddies boost me, understand me, inspire me, disappointment me. It’s like owning a Welsh rugby club.
Wistful? Me?
I now wake my teen son for school by tossing dog treats in his bed and turning White Fang loose to roust him. Tell you what, it works.
Autumn’s Eternal Flame
I got my very first awkward kiss, from a slinky actress in the lot behind the high school. Terri was a tad taller than me, with twisty legs of licorice.
We’re All Just Star Dust
We’re all star dust, remember? No matter who we are, how successful, how short, how strong, how naked, at the end of the day we’re all merely cosmic dust (hydrogen, lithium, merlot…)
Heavenly Moments
Did you know there were still Good Samaritans left in LA? Me neither. But there they were, helping me save the dog.
Something in Your Eye?
The golden retriever pup hears voices that aren’t even there. She hears the whispered second-thoughts of wayward angels … she hears aphids making out in the trees.