“Some say that the world is a vale of tears, I say it is a place of soul making.” — John Keats

Mello is mellowing. Last Sunday she went to her first dog gathering; the first one that we were aware of anyway. It was a nice walk and she didn’t bark. There were a wide range of dogs present and a good collection of people of all ages. Then we walked back home. Mello didn’t seem to mind parting company with the dog assortment as the barking faded.

Mello now spends much of her time at the front room window wondering when the students are coming home from school. I haven’t told her school is out. She still finds a number of folks to bark at and she remains attracted to the neighborhood dogs. She makes this whiny sound when she spots them from the window.

The dogs on both sides of our house go for daily walks in an enjoyable fashion. When Mello is walked she responds well to Jeanne who is the “dog whisperer.” I have yet to whisper to a dog in my life. Part of that was due to living by the woods along the turtle creek.

Living where we live now there are more cars passing by in a day then passed by Vilt’s valley in a week. Vilt’s valley is a wilderness now.

Carol my sister who used to babysit me is gone, however, her son Eric, “Mongo” is flying up from Florida in July where we will meet and then go to Cloquet where Jana, his younger sister, resides and orchestrates that newspaper. Mongo and Jana’s father will join us there, and we will all spend a few days reminiscing and certainly a day in Duluth dwelling in a used bookstore.

It will be four days without Mello. Jana and her family have their own dog that if I remember right is quite active too but doesn’t bark like Mello.

And now that I am forty twenty-eight I am adding more pills to increase my memory. I can’t remember where I put them.