Please include a few sheets of tissue paper the next time you publish an article like “A writer looks ahead to a life of adventures without his best friend Edison,” (April 20, The Mix.) It’s very hard to read while tears of joy are blurring my vision.
I just learned a valuable lesson about dogs and humans from one line in a poem by Mary Oliver, “Her Grave,” a tribute to her recently deceased dog. It’s from her book “Devotions,” which my daughter gave me for my 85th birthday:
“A dog can never tell you what she knows from the smells of the world, but you know, watching her, that you know nothing.”
After reading this, I now let Sparky smell, look and listen as much as he wants to because he is hearing, smelling and seeing things I do not hear, smell or see. While I am escorting him on our daily walk, I know nothing as compared to what he is hearing, smelling and seeing.
Ken Erickson, Bellevue