Sensitive reader alert:
Sunday was my birthday. The first sound that greeted my ears on turning 62 was my dog, Sooner, chundering next to my bed. (Other dogs would merely barf, but having a Australian-American owner means that Sooner chunders in the Australian vernacular.)
It was not the chocolate that made old Sooner sick - some of you had expressed alarm about that in a previous post but I wasn't worried then because he has a cast-iron stomach for most things.
But his cast-iron stomach was no match this time for the porcelain bowl - he drank out of the toilet which contained a blue rinse household cleaner. Be warned, dog owners.
Yesterday, the main thing I did on my day off was take Sooner to the vet. Fortunately, he appears now to be on the mend, taking a little nourishment.
Thank you for carrying on this blog in my absence. I don't know if you are a neatly attired bunch but you can certainly comment up a storm.
After a few days off, I am not quite back in the swing of things but I note with sadness the passing of Phil Musick, once the dean of Pittsburgh newspaper columnists.
I didn't know him very well but I did work with him at the PG for a number of years and I did admire his writing. Having started out as a sports writer and editor, he had a style that was naturally entertaining and it translated well into a general column. (Gene Collier, now back in sports, brought the same gift for entertainment learned from sports writing to write his general interest column).
In his heyday at the Press, Phil wrote a column almost every day - an impossible feat - and engaged readers like no one before or since. Those who remember him will lament his passing.
I hope this decade improves.