From the beginning things didn’t go well. and before long I was chasing little wrinkles up and down; exacting one crease from the leg above, while creating one on the leg below. I touched the iron again to make sure it was sufficiently cool.

The rest is best forgotten, or certainly best concealed. I finally put things away, with only marginal improvement for the effort. When Kathy came home, she wasn’t a bit appreciative to see that I’d tried to iron her “best” pants.

I do hope you used a cool iron, she said.

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I like to support local merchants.

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I usually buy clothes that are a shade too loose. You’d be surprised at how many people ask me if I’ve lost weight.

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Maybe I should replace a couple of those burnt out bulbs after my nap.

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None of this has anything to do with our current foster lab Kiki, of course—who promises to unclench my wrist once I finish adding this last part.

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In our case, it would have to be a yard sale, that’s for sure. Our 1940’s wooden garage door has never been replaced—and it’s so out of kilter you’d need the “jaws of life” to get it horizontal, and half-a-dozen 4-by’s to keep it there.

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Kiki was a “puller” when she came, but learned to walk on a slack leash almost immediately. She is extremely alert while walking: to anything alive or moving. She can be distracted easily, so we are working on keeping her focused. She is also a “sniffer” who will dawdle if you let her. She marks frequently (and unfailingly in front of any house where there’s a mean dog behind a locked gate). She socializes well with other dogs, but seems more of a “people” dog—so might be happiest in a home without other dogs. She has not been exposed to cats in a household setting. She barks appropriately, and crates well. She rides well in the car, crated or at liberty. She has shown little interest in toys, generally; and needs to work on the second half of “fetch an bring”. She loves treats.

She is now learning “stop at the threshold, until given the release word”. She knows “come” and (sorta) “stay”. She is spotty with “sit”, but she’s got “down” down. She adores attention, but will give space. She occasionally jumps up when greeting people, but understands “off” and “no”. We were told she’s a “counter surfer”—but have yet to see her catch a wave.

Kiki’s coat is deep black, with a sheen that ripples with the light. She has the stocky conformation of the classic English lab. She is spayed and microchipped, and has all her registry papers. She is not aggressive in any way we have seen—not food-aggressive; nor toward people, or children. She’s medium-sized but solid, stronger than she knows, and sometimes a bit klutzy. She can be boisterous if excited—so she may not be suitable for homes where small children could get bowled over.

All in all, we have found Kiki a smart, well-behaved and wonderfully engaging house guest. Sadly though, she came to us only after being rescued from a small vet’s office—where she’d been kept in virtual isolation for six weeks or more. She’s obviously been through several pregnancies. Now she needs exercise and walks and lots of ear scratching. If you’d like to provide those, she waits for you here in San Jose, to come take her home. Included at no additional cost comes a heart filled with love and devotion and wonder and trust. Forever. Just give her a call.

We’ll let Kiki answer.

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Wait a minute! Why is it that every time these guys get a dog that’s overweight and out of shape, they think of me? Just a coincidence? Have they been hacking into my annual whole milk purchases? Illegally observing me using out-of-work Paparazzi? I walk. Sometimes.

“This dog’s not bald, is she?” I asked.

There was a long pause as she slid into “Why, no…of course not.” A nervous laugh. “Why would it occur to you to ask  that?”. She tinkled cautiously.

“Oh, just a passing thought,” I said.

I’ll ask the dog if she wants to set up a training regimen. I figure the Snickers bar will help.

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When we got home, he brought in his Superdog vest and laid it in my lap—the one that says “Adopt Me”. He said he doesn’t need it anymore and please give it to the next worthy candidate. Then he put his head in my lap and I spent half-an-hour scratching him everywhere that needed scratching.

The doorbell rang and we both got up to answer it. Rufus looked back wistfully at the vest on the chair. I’m really going to miss that, his eyes said.

Either way, I said, you’ll always be a Super-hero to me.

I opened the door…

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I prefer looking at planets. You can tell one in the sky because it doesn’t twinkle. However small, what you see up there is a disc, a shaft of light. One that comes through the atmosphere relatively undisturbed. But the nearest star is more than 7,000 times farther away than even distant Pluto; which is far, far away. Others are 7,000 times farther still. Or 700, 000,000. So no matter how big and bright, or powerfully magnified, even the closest  stars are just points of light that twinkle. Stars all look alike to me, just different colors.

Our nearby planets and their large satellites, however, are places. Places we can go if we want to. Places that may have evolved at least some form of primitive biology—which would provide an immeasurable insight into our own. Places that might harbor stores of water ice—providing oxygen to breathe, and fuel to travel even farther beyond. To be sure, you can’t fly there quite yet, but you can still visit these places, with even a good set of binoculars, as they put on their celestial Broadway show every night of the year.

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