Dad and Princey, 1971. I saw a Norwegian Elkhound in the park today, and I was unaccountably moved. They're rare in the city, and Prince was my first dog, and the first dog I ever loved. It sent my mind down a wandering path this evening. There comes a point in all our lives when we can touch memories of loss that used to cause us sadness, but now just give us a sense of gratitude to have been allowed us to experience them; and a sort of gentle, if wistful, transcendent peace.
