We have a real winter going on in the Northeast. This is the coldest one of the five that my dog Celeste and I have shared. I’m reminded of that whenever we head out to take care of “business”.
Celeste and I met the year I turned fifty. Becoming parents to a dog was something that we didn’t plan for –unlike my son, who followed her about a year and a-half later into our household — it was something that I was going to do when I could afford a couple of acres for the pooch to roam. We live in an 1895 Victorian townhouse and our yard doesn’t even fit a decent size Chevrolet. Besides, the house was already occupied by two cats I had adopted when my wife and I moved in together.
But I saw a photo of Celeste, a rescued pup in an all-cat Connecticut shelter, and I could not resist. Continue reading