Meditations of a Dog: Getting Ready for Greece
We used to have a dog named Robert or, to be more precise Robert the Bruce. Robert was a Scottish Terrier of a particularly independent mind. Though he obeyed me, loved my life, and loyally guarded the family, it would be misleading to say we owned him. The reverse was closer to the truth. If previous Scotties in the family had been “jaunty,” as almost all of them are, Robert went them one better in being cocky or, rather, arrogant. Although each of us was of two minds about Robert, we all agreed at his funeral, as we drank the ...



