Dear Friends:
The Boss told me this week that omitting needless words is one key to a great article. She also
informed me that any mention of her qualified as such. I guess that leaves Dolly Dog as the only
girl that I can write about without complaint.
Dolly wouldn’t admit it, but she is slipping a wee bit. It’s understandable, given the dog/age
conversion factor. She’s zoomed by me in age like I’m standing still on the freeway. Most days,
she’s nearly stepped on several times while she putters around looking for crumbs.
Dogs generally hear much better than humans, but I think Dolly’s going deaf. There is a slight
possibility, however, that Dolly simply has selective hearing. I say this because any invite or
instruction containing the word “treat” garners a response similar to a dalmatian hearing a fire
siren. The Boss says I have the same selective hearing problem.
Tide and time wait for no man or dog, and so it is my subject today. We’re anxious for the
spring winds to subside, which will likely occur just as soon as local youth baseball season ends.
Having played a lot of baseball as a youngster, I can’t attend a game without wondering when
my hat will be blown into the next county.
Every problem is relative, however. My sister lives in Enoch where the spring bluster is much
more violent than here. She’s become so accustomed to leaning into the wind that she’s been
known to fall over when she visits here. She says it takes some “windalization” to get used to
our calm conditions.
I’ve questioned the accuracy of City of Enoch story in the bible (as far as it’s translated
correctly). If that Enoch was anything like Utah’s Enoch, I’m quite sure that some of inhabitants
just held up umbrellas and were taken up that way. I’m certain many folks in Enoch would
qualify to be taken up the biblical way; perhaps many have gained real wings and gone instantly
to their reward. Knowing that there are a few potholes in Enoch, I’m equally sure some real
wing flyers have been grounded. Most folks can’t hit a pothole without cursing and that would
disqualify them from angelhood immediately.
Another sign Dolly’s lost a step is that we have a new cat problem in our yard. I caught a feline
perched in the flower garden with no TP in sight. I had to use some seriously abusive cat-man
talk to get it to fold up the newspaper and retreat to its own yard next door. By the time I
retrieved a shovel to cover the hole said feline had dug, the offender had returned and filled the
whole hole with its meow mix bomb. After officially proving myself unworthy of an Enoch-like
experience, I shoveled Tabitha’s deposit right back into her own yard. I’m hoping the neighbors
get the message. If not, I hope the Untidy Cat likes the cayenne pepper that’s waiting for her
next visit.
In past years, Dolly girl would have solved the problem, but she can’t see, smell or hear the daily
invasion. We are committed to Dolly girl, and like all other dog owners, we’ve tried to prepare
for all the possibilities. She will be licensed to the end and I’ve no doubt she is qualified in every
way to skip, jump and go straight to the big dog park in the sky to wait for us. For 15 years,
we’ve been greeted with tail-wagging every single time we walk into the house. I’m sure we’ll
be greeted the same way when we see her in the great beyond.
Mayor David Ogden