Dawg Tarred

Ah um dawg tarred o this…
Yesterday Ben and I were supposed to start obedience training. The class canceled, again. I will have to seek another provider. Ben is reasonably well mannered but far from being a therapy dog. He is, however, the perfect dog for me. He has made the cancer journey easier and it would be nice if we could share the love.
My daughter has moved to Louisiana. She is trying a new adventure. It is a great opportunity for her and my mom to bond. There is a bit of culture shock. My mom lives in the woods outside of Gloster, La. The film ‘Water Boy’ is not too far off target. I loved living there. We moved to Riverside, California right around puberty. That was traumatic. I was a country boy in the big city. Among other things they made fun of my accent; “dude, say dog.”
The formative years set the stage for our personality. I tried hard to fit in. My music changed from Hank Williams to Kiss. Just as I was becoming accepted the disco craze started. I made a half-hearted effort to go with the trend but could not stomach the fickle nature of junior high social hierarchy. I figured out I did not want to make the effort to be “popular” if it meant pretending to like things I did not. I was still an idiot but I knew I liked bluegrass and punk, functional clothes and DAWGS.
Recovery continues. I thank God everyday for allowing me to be. Thanks for the prayers and support.