This is the blanket we spread upon the ground

Roo and I are in something of a rush to move. With the decision made, it doesn't possible to get out fast enough. We are in a storm of packing, eBaying everything that isn't nailed down, hauling stuff with the gimpy arm, and making sure that You-Know-Who's daily attempted mouseicide quota is met. It is something of a stressful, yet hopeful, time.

So, we've set up a GoFundMe page. It is as lowly as they come, but there it is. Small steps on a humble path forward. We carry on like the pilgrim you will read about at the GoFundMe page. If nothing else, you might enjoy reading it.


BREAKING: Roo makes two front pages in one paper in one day, still not satisfied.

Roo didn't seem too pleased to see herself on the front page of today's Asheville Citizen-Times. Maybe she didn't want that old snake story rehashed. Maybe she thought she could live down the day she almost became the mouse. Whatever it was, she wasn't too pleased.

But I was! Today was the debut of my new Asheville Citizen-Times dog column, featuring Junior, Inc. Go on over and hit the comments up and share the story on your Facebook page, Tweets and all the rest of it from there (in the hopes that one day they might pay me more than the going rate of 1.5 tanks of gas per article), will ya? I'm counting on you to click on every share and comment button they have. Or else the dog gets it. 

By the way - we got rattled today. We were walking on a gravel path when out of the bushes came the sound of a furious rattle. The snake was only feet away, and yet completely unseen. It sent shivers down my spine. The Kahoo, however, was entirely unperturbed. If it doesn't squeak, it just doesn't speak to Roo.

The one sound that doesn't frighten her is the one that really, really should.

No, this is not Roo at a Confederate flag rally

Nt too long ago, an outfit like this meant it was time for a cross-burning. Roo, however, is not lookin' away to Dixieland - she's just pining for a trail she just left ten seconds earlier.

A friend from Australia has written me after 30 years (hiya, Judy!), and asked me to send her something I wrote. I couldn't find what I was looking for, so I suggested the story I wrote about Tombstone when Roo and I were there in December of 2013. If you haven't read it, check it out. I think it's my favorite thing I ever posted here.

It features a gunfight at the OK Corral I may or may not have had anything to do with, an octogenarian gunslinger and a little dog: 

"The man had a little Maltipoo on a red leash. Over the years, the dog had taken on a deep nicotine stain. He had gone from what must once have been white to an ashen, dirty yellow. He was looking at Roo with the earnest expression of a dog who knew that he had missed some boat that dogs all hope to be on and of which Roo looked like she might be the captain."

And, like everything else here, it's all true. Anyway, if you're newish to the blog you probably never saw it.

Three years ago today

Three years ago today I first saw Roo when she was brought into the waiting room of the clinic where she was spayed in Los Angeles. Most of you know the story. The video above is the first one I ever posted of Roo. It was a couple of days after I brought her home. I turned the camera on because she was just starting to smile for the first time. You can see that her tongue was still weak.

So, today's not the anniversary of adopting Roo, but from the beginning there wasn't too much doubt that I would.

We'll be on the road again soon, I think. A continuation of the way Notes ended.

Roo is a great, sweet courageous dog. The dedication in the book reads, "Too Roo - the bravest puppy I ever knew." It's as true now as it was then.

Here's Rooki at the end of what was a hot, boring day for her. Still, I think she would take boring over whatever it was that had happened to her before.

Where's Isis when you need them?

Because God knows the cops around here don't do anything about the neighbor who blows off fireworks every single night. Boom. Boom. Boom. To be fair, the cops can't really do much - the bomber is hidden in the woods somewhere. But, why can't he at least end up in an orange jumpsuit in a YouTube video? Oh, right, these are the freedumbs we fought them over there for so we wouldn't have to fight them over here. Just pretend to every night.