In 1992, Pumpkin died from old age at my mom’s house in Vermont.
I entered the longest dog-less period of my life.
When my boys were little I didn’t want
one more single solitary thing
to care for. Not even a house plant.
Cut flowers were too much trouble.
It was lucky that Pumpkin, as my alter ego, was far more energetic and willing to entertain.
In her world we were visited by frogs,