That’s his name. He’s my dog. Justin and I welcomed him into the family a LONG time ago. I think the year was 1999. He was a wee pup. And he ate everything. My Oriental rug from IKEA. The new couch J and I bought from Montgomery Ward (yes, I said Montgomery Ward). Shoes, VHS (I know, I know V-H-S) cases. It was crazy.

When we moved to Oregon my mom took Roswell. And at first I think she loathed the new adoption but then she grew to love that guy. He was her guard dog. When we went to So Cal, there was Roswell. Not very social with us. I think he was bitter.

And now, Roswell is here. On a temporary stay while my mom is working in San Rafael.

And I think he’s still mad at us. But he’s old now. He has arthritis. He has a cataract in his eye. He has a grey beard. He’s so grumpy. He has tried to get into our car a few times so he can go back to the home he now knows. He barks at any moving creature that passes the picket fence. Grumpy.

But I love that dog. He’s dirty. He gets winded after one block of walking. Good ol’ Roswell New Mexico Gregory.