Yea! Congress does the right thing.

Update: I downloaded the new pictures, here is one of Sam.


I finally found my camera and so I took a few more pictures of Sam today. As soon as I download them, I will post one or a few here. I also looked through some albums, trying to find a couple of pictures of Rudy when he was a puppy. It struck me that Sam's pictures will all be digital! Anyway, I found what I was looking for, and here are two of Mr. Wuj when he was a baby, and a favorite from his grown up days. His looks changed quite a bit when he became an adult, especially his face. I wonder if the same thing will happen to Sam? There is also a picture of Howie, and one of Penny. I scanned them all because I am using them to illustrate a story I wrote as a tribute to Rudy. Eventually I will link it to Gully Brook Press.

Rudy's stone came today. I knew that's what it was as soon as I saw the Federal Express ground truck drive up. Heard the porch door open and then slam shut. Peeked out of the curtain on the door and saw the box sitting there. Lifted the small box and felt how heavy it was. Cleared away the shipping peanuts and bubble wrap. But still, I wasn't prepared to see what it says. This weekend we will put it on his grave. I have a feeling I will never be completely prepared to go into that little clearing in the woods and see what it says. RUDY. September 17, 1995. September 25, 2005. So finite.

Since he usually focuses on something I don't care for - television (and generally likes shows I hate and doesn't like any of the few programs I enjoy), I usually don't bother to read stories by this writer, but here is a nice article in today's Times Union about this obituary. I've always wondered how a life can be summed up in a brief column. The answer is it can't be, which is obvious to anyone who reads my writings about Rudy.

We also get The Record, although delivery is spotty. One of my favorite features is Sound Off, but I must have missed the paper on the day this one appeared (scroll down to "Nobody's forcing you." Luckily, the Advertiser doesn't have Sound Off, or someone would probably criticize my memorial for Rudy. Amazing how insensitive people can be, I think. But in Sunday's Sound Off, two callers defended the obituary writer.

By the time Tammy got to us this weekend, it was just a rain storm - but one that dumped nine inches of water. Our driveway in Samsonville was turned into a river. I had my camera with me but did not venture out to take pictures.

The puppy is doing well. We have two or three times a day when he really acts up, mostly by pestering Sophie. She is being a trooper, and a lot of time is willing to play with him, but unfortunately her wrestling is mixed in with barking, and Sophie is very loud. Sometimes he also tries to play with Edna, which does not go over well at all. I don't think he will be a cat-agressive dog, but getting him through this stage takes vigilance. He is very wound up after he has been crated. As soon as I am sure he will not chew electrical wires or harass the "girls" constantly when we are out, the crate is history. Also, it takes up too much space in our tiny livingroom.

Some of my students are gems. Several have sent me condolence messages, and after class last night, two stopped to ask me how I am doing and to say that they cried when I told the class about Rudy. How I miss him! Sam's various distractions and cuteness definitely help, but I know it will be a while before I am completely recovered.

This appeared in today's Advertiser. They did a nice job, I think.

This is Sam. That's the name he came with, and he responds to "Sammy." He is four months old, and seems already to be housebroken. He isn't the puppy that we were told about on Friday, someone else adopted him in the morning as we procrastinated, getting breakfast and taking junk from our yard to the Village clean up day.

The person who brought him to the shelter said he is black and tan hound and lab, but the shelter staff believes he is black and tan hound and border collie. He may be several breeds, who knows. He has mighty big paw prints to fill, and he is making inroads but has not quite won over Edna, or especially Sophie, but so far he has the makings of a very good dog. I am still sad, but then he bites my wrist with his needle teeth, instantly snapping me out of my grief. He makes me think about the future in a positive way, which is a good thing.