Benji has a fan club

My brother John and his puppy

Benji is so grateful for all the welcoming comments and praise for his good looks. He is especially grateful to one anonymous fan who sent him a gift—wonderful health bar treats in a variety of flavors and a chew toy he has not been parted with. I wish I had a name so I could thank the donor, but I hope he or she reads this and knows how tickled we were to receive this bounty and how grateful. Benji has found himself a special place in the yard, by a tree, where he hollowed out a hidey hole and stashed his favorites, such as the most ragged rope chew thing you ever saw. Now the new bacon-flavored bone is there too, after banging its way around the cottage while I napped. On the whole, Benji is really good about my naps—he puts himself to bed in his crate.

The barking is getting somewhat better. At least, I think so though I may be grasping at straws. He spent periods quietly outside today. I think that advice that he needs to get used to the neighborhood is spot on. In his previous home, as good as they were to him, he did not spend much time outdoors. Now he’s outside every minute he can be, although he frequently comes to the door to check and see that I’m still in here. If his barking gets to be too much, I simply bring him inside, and he takes this with good grace, going immediately to his crate. But he will emerge to lie on the floor by my desk, and this evening, I could hear him and his bone in the bedroom. Knock on wood, but so far he has not bothered one thing he shouldn’t, and his food manners are good. He’s not a beggar.

I had a chance to test my own food manners last night when Carol Roark picked me up for dinner at the Blue Spire, the upscale dining area at Trinity Terrace, the high-rise retirement community where so many of my friends live. It was one thing for Carol to invite me, but another much bigger one for her to have to leave TT to pick me up and deliver me after dinner. And on top of that to wheel me in the transport chair because it is a very long walk from the front door to the elevator in the newest tower which houses the Blue Spire. So I am most grateful. We had a delicious dinner—veal piccata for me (Christian fixes chicken piccata frequently but I never splurge and buy veal) and stroganoff for Carol. Beter yet, Carol and I had a good visit. We don’t have get a one-on-one visit—we are part of a group of four who dine together. But last night, it was just us, and I got a slide tour of her recent trip to New Zealand (all those exotic birds and plants whose names I can’t pronounce!) and she listened about Benji and the goings on of my family and even my cooking. A lovely evening.

Tonight, my heart is heavy. My 92-year-old big brother is in the hospital—again! —and not doing well. He has always, since I was small, been my protector, and as we raised our children, he filled the roll of patriarch with admirable grace—my kids and his know their table manners to this day! John and I have had our differences—politics! —but in the last year plus, we have again become close, talking on the phone every four or five days. And we have so many rich, good memories that they outweigh the differences in our views and sometimes our lifestyle. I am not rushing to his bedside, because I think that would be extremely difficult for both of us—we are the last of our family on the side of our mother, my father, and his father. His wife said she would she would ask what he wants, but I suspect he will tell me not to come. And so I wait on tenterhooks. Prayers for peace and acceptance are welcomed.