Dammit, dammit, dammitall. I knew I was gonna cry. Hate that.

My boss left a book on my desk one day, with a note saying he thought I’d enjoy reading it. The book was Marley & Me by John Grogan, about the big adorable wrecking ball of a yellow Lab that was part of his family for many years. There were plenty of warnings in the reviews on the back cover—“a funny, touching tribute…“, “tenderly follows its subject from sunrise to sunset…“ I knew I’d thoroughly enjoy most of the book, even while dreading the end. And sure enough, Marley’s exploits were a pure delight. Last night I was still reading for a good while after Kevin had gone to sleep, and I had to stifle several good outbreaks of mirth. A great book. I guess it’s a trade-off that those of us who will enjoy such a book the most will also be the most saddened when the wonderful furry protagonist’s time on Earth comes to a close, in large part because it brings to mind our own experiences of losing a pet in the past, and our dread of losing the dear ones who share our lives now. Lucy benefited greatly from my finishing that book—she got invited in for hugs and treats even though she was kinda wet.

I’m going to have to recommend that book to some folks who live in our neighborhood. Their goofy yellow Lab, Sandbag, comes to visit us sometimes despite the electronic fence around his yard. (I have got to ask them one day if he got his name because someone saw him all curled up as a puppy and said “Aww, he looks just like a little sandbag!“) I get the feeling they think he’s quite a handful, and I won’t disagree, but he’s also a very sweet boy—and next to Marley I bet he’s a model of canine deportment!

When Sandbag comes to visit I take him home. Someday when we get a proper fence I’ll be happy to let him romp with Lucy for awhile (she seems to think he’s an absolute rockstar—I swear last time he came by I saw her throwing a bra—and he’s not discouraging her one bit!) For now, I take him right home, and I hope his people don’t misunderstand. I tell them every time, I love him and I love his visits, I just want him to be safe. There are a couple of women who walk in our neighborhood (I don’t think they live here, so who invited ‘em anyway…) carrying big sticks. They seem to be quite irrational about dogs. One time Lucy ran up to them in her usual “Ooh, more people to love!“ fashion, which if they had any grasp whatsoever of canine body language they should have realized, but one of them raised her huge stick over her head and whacked it hard on the ground in front of Lucy—fortunately not making contact, or she would have had to deal with me. OK, I can try to have some sympathy for severe dog phobia because my mom has it too, but dang it, even with the phobia Mom adores Lucy. So those women need to get a clue, and give a sweet loving dog a chance.

I’m not sure, but I’d almost bet those women were involved in a disgusting episode several years ago. The dogs next door at the time were Smokey and Cassie. Smokey’s part Chow, and he does bark (that’s all!) at what he considers potential invaders. Also, at that time, he wasn’t contained in the yard, so he might have ventured into the cul-de-sac. But somehow, the dogcatcher was called to come get him out of his own yard. And when the dogcatcher couldn’t corral Smokey, he instead picked up and hauled off poor Cassie, who was so old and arthritic she could barely walk, much less bother any pedestrians. I caught this performance, gave him a piece of my mind which he of course ignored (and then lied barefaced to me, denying it all when I confronted him about the Auschwitz-like extermination methods used at our lovely Coweta County “humane” facility…) In the end, all I could do was to track down my neighbor at work and let him know, so poor harmless Cassie could be sprung as quickly as possible. Grrrrr… Yeah, I know, I’m irrational too—but mine’s the good kind!

But anyway. Next on my critter reading list is a story I know has a happy ending (and in my brain it’s going to freeze-frame that way!)—From Baghdad, With Love, about a puppy who was adopted by some Marines in Iraq, and who has now been brought back to the States to live happily ever after with the unit’s commander.