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Salvy's Friends




 It's said that a great way to meet people is to get a dog.

Salvy has expanded our network in substantial ways. One of my favorite new encounters is with our dog-loving neighbors, who cuddle with Salvy while telling me lurid stories.

"Salvy is the best," says Margaret, as she reaches for a pita chip. "Oh, did I tell you what happened with a blackbird in my lawn? I was brushing my teeth, and I looked out, and I saw a bird grab a rabbit in its talons. My dads didn't believe me, but then we all walked out and saw the rabbit entrails on the roof of our shed."

"We love Salvy," says Margaret's father. "And did I ever tell you that we bought our house from literal Nazis? That's the rumor. They fled from justice after the war. Their name was Schmidt, and once they reached Maplewood, they never, never left the space within those walls...."

Salvy also had a great friend and teacher who would deliver him, via pet-taxi, to regular installments of doggie daycare. The pet-taxi had psychedelic colors, and you could see and hear enthusiastic riders through the frame of the car-door. We never learned the name of Salvy's driver/teacher, but we would sometimes eavesdrop when he returned Salvy home--and the conversations between these two were like a lengthy love-duet. To listen to this guy mid-dog-chat was to think: Here is a man who has found his purpose on Earth.

As I said, we didn't learn his name, but his e-mail handle was "Woof," so we thought of him that way. Or, sometimes: "Mr. Woof." He died, unexpectedly, a few days ago.

I'm really a sucker for writing-about-pets, in my old age: works of Anne Lamott, Beverly Cleary, "Little House in the Big Woods." I think pets make the world go 'round.

Well, all this is in loving memory of Woof.
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