An excerpt from ALWAYS SOMETHING THERE TO REMIND ME (July 19, 2011, St. Martin's Press)

Memorial Day was a really weird day; sort of overcast and monochromatic, but balmy with a breeze that was blowing straight from a different time.

            The feeling I couldn’t shake was that this was a leftover day from many years ago.  The smell, the feel, the way the wind moved the reaching branches of the still-bare tall oaks in just such a way that you could almost hear them creak and scratch against the sky.  There was a thickness to the air that made it seem old.  It was a day between childhood and adulthood, lost in time, and carrying every question I’d ever asked, and every confidence I’d ever carried, and every tear I’d ever cried.

            It made me restless. 

            The sun was dipping in the sky, throwing a slant of amber light across the neat row of little brick Monopoly houses and cherry blossom trees. Everything was dramatic - the long, reaching shadows, the way the wind skittered fallen cherry blossoms across the street and the faint smell of charcoal smoke hung in the air, like something remembered. 

            I walked along Victory Lane and then turned right onto Parker Drive, where my old school sat nestled amongst green trees, grassy lawns and stone walls.

I was still for a moment, looking at the school façade, thinking about how much history this building held for so many people.  And everyone’s story would be different.  Every triumph would have a different prize, every heartache a different face. 

            I turned and headed back to the parking lot to leave.  Passing the tall tree I’d passed every day on my way to and from Nate’s car when he’d drop me off and pick me up.  Somehow it was the tree that got to me.  It made me tremendously sad, not just because of the time that had gone but because the time had somehow gone without me really noticing it.

            For one crazy moment, I remembered what it felt like to walk this pavement without the weight of my world on my shoulders.  To head toward the old blue car he drove and get in, tossing my books in the back and sliding against his familiar warmth.

            Would Nate and I have the same memories of those times?  Not all of them, of course, but if a police sketch artist were to somehow illustrate our time together based on what we said, would it look even remotely the same?

            I left the parking lot and headed back out the way I’d come, pausing for a moment to see the echo of Nate’s car, where he always parked, waiting for me after school…

I present to you the Ethical Pet Seek-a-Treat Bone Shuffle Dog Toy:

Okay, I don't know what I was expecting.  I guess I wanted the hours of dog-torturing fun I got from the voice-activated dead-rat-in-a-trap, or the battery operated shrieking possum, or maybe just the animatronic furry-wagging- tail-stuck-to-a-ball.  I mean, that is quality entertainment.  As is the Chuk-it, which allows me to throw a tennis ball 4 miles, as if I have a bionic arm, sending the dogs dashing so fast that dirt flies up behind them like race horses on a muddy track.  And don't even get me started on the excitement of the chase-the-laser-dot-on-the-floor game.  It's here, it's gone, it's here, it's gone, it's on your nose, it's on the rug, it's on Riggo, it's gone....!  Ceaselessly amusing.  For some of us.

So a sliding door wooden quiz box filled with treats that both challenged my dogs' IQ's AND gave them deductive reasoning skills seemed like seriously responsible, and exciting, pet management. Right?!