After reading my previous post about celestial hand-holding, my college roommate Bob sent this photo of my dog Bart in front of our modest house in Gainesville, Fla. He said that maybe it wasn't any hand that was holding mine as I drifted in La La Land for four days after a series of seizures and heart attacks. He suggested it may have been a paw of my dear-departed dog Bart who was our fourth roomie at the time. Bart was an Irish Setter-Lab mix that I got for a Christmas present when I lived in Boston. He was everybody's pal, but not every dog's. Our landlady's dog Joe, a one-eyed misshapen cur, would start a fight every time he saw Bart. Or maybe Bart started it, who knows? Bart disappeared while staying at my parents' house in Daytona while I looked for a pet-friendly dwelling in my new home in Denver. He disappeared one night and never returned. I got the phone call on a frigid fall night and I was distraught for a very long time. Bob's comments cheered me because he may be right, my dog Bart was telling me that it was OK to stay on Planet Earth for a while longer as we would be playing ball or frisbee in the Great Beyond for eternity. That comforted me. Here's the photo Bob sent. Bart in repose. Hella dog, Bart. Be seeing you.
