A week or so ago at Corvallis’ Cloverland Park, where I help my daughter Pam practice softball, I stumbled upon a blast from the past of sorts:
I heard the woman he was with call him Atticus.
“Hey, Atticus,” I said as the old dog wandered toward me, and I bent down to pet him. “You just loved ‘To Kill a Mockingbird,’ huh?”
The woman laughed.
“He came to me already named,” she said. “But I do love that movie.”
Atticus, I told her, reminded me strongly of my dear departed friend Bingle, who died in 2002 at age 16. Coincidentally, Atticus was also 16.
When he started to stroll away, sort of aimlessly, I called for him.
“He can’t hear,” his owner said.
Just like Bingle, who by the end was so deaf I could run the lawn mower right next to her and not wake her up.
“This is a good park for him,” she went on. “There’s a lot of room, and if he starts to go anywhere, he can’t go very fast so we can get him before he gets into any danger.”
I’ve always loved dogs and loved meeting Atticus. Here, btw, is a picture of Bingle. She’s on the right, and Data, who also shares the resemblance, is on the right. Data had untreatable cancer and died 10 years ago also, at the comparatively young age of 11:
And now for the Catch of the Day, No. 12: