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Thursday, March 31, 2016



Thursday, 8:30 AM.  34 degrees F at the ferry dock, 32 on the back porch.  Wind N, light with much stronger gusts.  The sky is overcast and it is quite foggy.  The humidity is 97%, and the barometer steady at 29.58".  We are in for a cold weekend, with snow predicted for Sunday.
   Sometime in the middle of the night I heard Buddy growling, and I heard bumping noises on the front porch.  By the time I could investigate whatever was out there had left.  This morning I saw that the critter, racoon or bear, had been rummaging in one of the porch foot lockers, where there are some peanut butter and bird seed blocks.  Guess I'll have to put some things in the shed, and think about taking the bird feeder down.
   Buddy and I met our neighbor dog Roxy on our morning walk.  She is usually found roaming at large on nearby streets or sitting in front of her house on Old Military Road just up the street from ours.
   This morning she seemed rather quiet, even disconsolate, as we all greeted each other.  She had a note, inside a plastic envelope, firmly attached to her collar.  Thinking it might indicate that she was ill or something, I read it with some concern.  Roxy cowered as I did so.
   Yes, it was dire news indeed, which read; "Please, dear neighbor, do not feed Roxy any treats.  She gets plenty to eat at home.  She has gained a lot of weight and she is on a diet.  If she looks at you with soulful eyes, do not give in.  We want her around for a long time.  Please do not feed her!"
   Roxy is a very friendly dog, but is a black lab, and they are notorious for eating everything they can get their paws on and becoming fat as a piggy as they age.  It doesn't help that Roxy is very friendly and roams the neighborhood unimpeded (she evidently has bribed the chief of plice).
   All this meant nothing to Buddy, since he doesn't like treats, remains skinny as a rail (you can see his ribs) and is naturally athletic.
   Unfortunately, it meant a lot to myself, who also roams the neighborhood at will, loves treats, and tends towards pudgy.  I can see Joan putting a note around my neck, which might say something such as, "Please don't feed this man any treats, especially apple pie, which he dearly loves. He gets plenty to eat at home. He has a tendency to gain wait and for one reason or another I want to keep him around for a few more years.  If he looks at you and your apple pie with soulful eyes, do not give in. Please do not feed him."
   Move over, Roxy, we will share our sorrow, if not  our treats.  Buddy, you can keep us company.

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