Occasional Holy Man, Indifferent Bassist, and Maladroit Luthier Who Offers Stray, Provocative, and Insouciant Thoughts about Religion, Archaeology, Human Foible, Surfing, and Interesting People. Breaking the Narrative Since 2001. Cultivez votre propre jardin. [Also, "alot" is not a word.]
Here's a photo of mine, Toby, who died six years ago next month at the age of 14. He was such a close and steady companion that it seemed like a form of betrayal to even think of replacing him with another dog.