Please embrace a couple of sheets of tissue paper the following time you publish an article like “A writer looks ahead to a life of adventures without his best friend Edison,” (April 20, The Combine.) It’s very laborious to learn whereas tears of pleasure are blurring my imaginative and prescient.
I simply discovered a invaluable lesson about canines and people from one line in a poem by Mary Oliver, “Her Grave,” a tribute to her lately deceased canine. It’s from her e-book “Devotions,” which my daughter gave me for my eighty fifth birthday:
“A canine can by no means inform you what she is aware of from the smells of the world, however you already know, watching her, that you already know nothing.”
After studying this, I now let Sparky scent, look and pay attention as a lot as he needs to as a result of he’s listening to, smelling and seeing issues I don’t hear, scent or see. Whereas I’m escorting him on our each day stroll, I do know nothing as in comparison with what he’s listening to, smelling and seeing.
Ken Erickson, Bellevue
