This is Shane, Quentin’s dog. Shane is a little over a year old. That fellow with him is like his grandpa; when Shane was a small puppy and outside in the heat, he turned on the car and held him up to the air conditioning vent.

Sydney and I feel for Shane because he is, we believe, a kind, goodhearted soul . . . and there is another dog who has the personality of the indomitable, incorrigible late Little Ann. Her name is Anya and  here she is below – with Shane.

Here is Shane before Anya:

Ah, yes, Little Ann . . .

It is not that we didn’t dearly love the indomitable and incorrigible little red cocker, not that we didn’t sob when she got cancer and we had to put her to sleep. No, it is not that at all. It just that, well, Little Ann could be so incredibly obstinate and cute at the same moment. Okay, maybe sometimes I had trouble seeing the cute when she would refuse to get in the car and insisted on following it while everyone looked and thought, “Gee, look at that lady making that dog – that poor adorable dog – walk home. Is she trying to ditch the dog?” I would say, never again, as I pulled into the driveway. I said it almost every day.

Lest we forget:

Oh, one other thing: I was reading something written by a person who has a brain tumor that is affecting his normal choice of words. He wrote “Summer is coming off of things” and, actually, I think that is a pretty good description.