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67 Maplewood

 A few weeks ago, we in America observed National Best Friends Day--and, in this house, I'm getting ready for Salvy's fifth birthday.

Like Jimmy Stewart, I tend to sleep next to my dog. But Salvy has been exiled for a few days. There is a new bedroom in the house, and sheets of glass are not yet ready for the staircase, so I've asked Salvy to remain on a different floor. I didn't want him accidentally throwing himself down the stairs, like Kristin Johnson in "Sex and the City." (This actually became a nightmare for me.)

Salvy has handled his exile with grace, and he is also doing fine with a new car position. He can't be in the backseat anymore, because a tiny infant has occupied his spot. On rare occasions, Salvy will lose his sense of equanimity, and he'll dig a soiled diaper out of a garbage can. He will then shred the diaper and leave it all over the floor--and I think, this way, he is communicating with me. He is saying: "I'm generally fine, but all this change has a cost. A psychic cost." And I understand. I don't blame him.

I continue to find Salvy a bit erratic and even exasperating on walks, especially in the summer heat. He will sometimes become enchanted by a smell, and though I patiently try to sing "Some Enchanted Evening"--or count down from 100--I do occasionally dream of force-marching Salvy for several hundreds of yards, or I dream of running away (briefly) so I can stress-eat. All of this passes.

I think of Jennifer Lawrence's final line in "Winter's Bone," when she is comforting her younger brother. She says: "I'd get lost without the weight of you on my shoulders."

Happy Birthday to Salvy.
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