I have a little dog named lacey. I ride my bike around town and she follows me wherever I go.

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The best thing about a man is his dog.”
Today I beg off from my usual long windedness. The roofmen are busy dropping rolls of paper and piles of shingles on my house. The painter is staining the new cabinet fronts, and three fencemen will be here later to give estimates for the Gracie blockade around the backyard. I can hear the music blaring from the outside radio, and I don’t recognize a single song. It is near time to hit the road.

The kitchen redo is nearly redone. A built in bookcase needs to be put in, and once the cabinets are finished, the kitchen needs to be painted. I have been living in such chaos I need to close my eyes when passing through the dining room-kitchen combination or my whole body starts to itch. The dog’s crate sits in the middle of my living room floor leaving space for little else. I have hopes that Gracie is getting beyond the eating my house when left alone stage and can be weaned from the crate. Once the workmen are gone, I’ll try leaving her for short lengths of time. I’m figuring this redo will cost me nearly as much as the house did.

My friends’ dog passed away this morning, and I was at a loss for words. I know that even the kindest sentiment or bit of comfort goes right to the hurt and pain. Pets love us with such depth that I often wonder what in the heck we have ever really done to deserve them