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.