verge (vʉrj)
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight

Saturday, October 22, 2011


The house is hollow without Biscuit.  I couldn't be there either.  Artie bolted out the door when I arrived and hopped into the car. We went for our usual walk and thought about him without saying so.  We saw hawks along the way, beautiful hawks. This road was one of his favorites.

The hard part is going back.  Biscuit would shuffle behind me as I prepared the kibble, barking Hurry up, Hurry up as I would fill his bowl.  Sparkling eyes looking to mine.  Biscuit-bliss. He guzzled his dinner so loudly we would have to giggle.  When he finished, he would wait patiently while she finished hers and then as if we weren't noticing, he would sashay over to her bowl and lap up the tidbits she faithfully left for him. But tonight was different. While I was making her dinner, Artie shot from room to room to room, crying, looking, looking...

As I put her bowl down, it clunked into the awkward silence of Biscuit's absence. I used to think that an absence such as this created an echo--that each movement through a fixed routine would recall some small vibration of what was missing.  There would be something familiar in that.  Something reassuring.  A sense of I still hear you. But tonight, each step through our routine called forth nothing-ness, an awkward void of absence.

I had to leave quickly.  I couldn't help her.  She'll figure it out.  I bolted from the house to my car.  I looked up and saw clouds, and the hawks.  Concord grapes still scent the air.  The road home was soft, beautiful.  I passed the orchard on the hill where the three of us used to run.  I looked at it awhile, and kept looking more.  It was one of his favorites...

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Henry Revisited

Henry is still in the driveway.  I can hardly believe it.  As we were taking our Sunday morning walk after the September wedding, there he was, as unassuming as ever.  I noticed he was having a yard sale this time and so we stopped to once again say hello.  He didn't have much to say, but that's so Henry.  He works very hard, you know.

I first met Henry in May 2010 when he was perched in this very same driveway doing his very same driveway thing.  At the time, I was immediately captivated by his Zelig-like relationship to the driveway. It appeared that the driveway was an extension of his being, that it grew  right out of his legs and body. Henry's apparent Oneness with his Driveway gave me goose bumps, a few chuckles, and a blog post.  I was instantly smitten with him and I've wondered about him many times since that day in May.

I was delighted to have the chance to see him again in action, this time overseeing a fabulous end-of-season yard sale. His partner says that even though Henry refuses to retire from his Oneness work, his back legs are giving out, and at fifteen years old, age is truly taking its toll. 

As we were leaving, he assumed his usual spot in the center of the driveway.  I looked back one more time.  He was perfect in every way. I hope I see him again but then again, knowing Henry and his Oneness powers,  I'm not so sure I'll know it if I do.

Tuesday, October 18, 2011


Dear sweet Old Man,
You did such a good job.
I will never forget you.