Four names, from 2007, when we had to have the back yard dug up (new pipe to attach to the city’s sewer line), Elizabeth left these names in the wet concrete of a new sidewalk. Thomas, of course, is my son, and he added his name. The other four are much-beloved doggies, all of them gone now, but loved to this day.

By way of introduction:

Nelson. My 40th birthday present, a wee Scots dog, a West Highland White Terrier. He was presented to me, thanks to my sisters, at our friends Ricky and Jane Monroe’s house in SLO. We’d had on on Huasna Road when I was in my teens–Winnie, a little girl, and I loved her. Nelson, handsome when groomed (the first photo) has a legacy in the Bruce family, my wife’s, (he loved another in-law, Rick Jackoway, Sally’s husband) because they’ve had at least three and maybe more Westies. My friend Linda Ortali loves them, too, as did her husband, Tunny. Nelson’s favorite toy was a bouncing basketball, even the ones that sometimes knocked him over when he caught them.

Prince was an amiable Welsh Corgi we got from the Harts, on Huasna Road (Bill Hart lived across from us in the Sixties and I later got to teach his children, wonderful and very bright young people, at AGHS.) There is a children’s book out there, called Dogzilla, about an immense Welsh Corgi that terrorizes a major American city. Prince was about that size. I am constantly amazed at how small all other Corgis are when compared to him.

We discovered, when walking him that he preferred walking behind us. That’s because Corgis are herding dogs, nipping at the heels of even cattle to keep them moving. They can leap onto a cow’s back to get her attention.

DNA is so amazing; Brigid, our Irish Setter, a pet but by breeding a bird dog, invariably picks up a doggie toy and holds it in her mouth, sitting at the front door when Elizabeth comes home from work.

Honey was acquired from an exclusive breeder, if by “breeder” you mean a family with a boxful of free puppies in the old K-Mart parking lot in Arroyo Grande. After I got over my scowl when Elizabeth brought her home, without warning, we decided she was a Shar-pei. We were in error. She kept growing and growing and GROWING and turned into a Lab/Pit Bull mix. Her name fit both her color and her personality, although she ate our seatbelts and tried to eat the massive oak tree in our back yard. She left marks in the trunk that would make you think that one of our pets was a grizzly bear. Like a grizzly, Honey had a massive, beautiful head. I imagined that she had several rows of teeth, like a Great White Shark.

She was also graceful, powerful athlete. Elizabeth was taking her for a run behind AGHS one day and lost Honey for a moment. Then Elizabeth heard coyotes yipping. Then she saw Honey at full speed, like a Thoroughbred at Santa Anita, sprinting back to Mom. Elizabeth was happy she was safe–Honey dived into the family car–but gobsmacked at Honey’s run from the coyotes. We don’t take our animals up there anymore.

Mollie was my problem, because she was the only dog I’ve ever bought at a pet store. So this time I ambushed my wife. Elizabeth’s dearest dog when she was a teen was an Irish Setter, so I must argue that Fate, with me finding this one (probably from a puppy mill in Arkansas or Missouri, probably the runt of her litter), the first Setter I’d ever had in my family. They are very funny, exuberant most of the time and so seldom sad and, of course, they are beautiful. The only time Mollie ever made me sad was the day we had to put her down and her head fell, heavy, into my hands. (It was a sad moment, but it was also powerful. See below.)

Mollie was also a kleptomaniac. Our neighbor across the street had a dog, and if she left the front door open, Mollie would sprint across the street, sneak inside, and come trotting back with the doggie toy she’d swiped in her mouth. She was enormously satisfied. As you can see, she loved Christmas presents, too.

The names in the sidewalk represent such grand companions and such good friends. And so, I believe, they will be again someday. They’ll all of them be waiting at the door.