Interlude: Riley? izzat you?

had dinner last week with some old friends. after we'd eaten, peg pulled out a package and handed it to me. "happy birthday!" she said cheerfully. "whenever it is." (it's in late october.) inside was a book, "dog is my co-pilot," a collection of essays from the bark magazine.

then she got less cheerful. "aw, you already have it?" she said. she was going by the baffled look on my face. "no, no, i don't," i said. "it's just that--the dog on the cover--that's riley!"

when he found the time, between chasing squirrels, digging holes, tormenting boscoe, and napping in the maroon wing-backed chair, to pose for a portrait, i'll never know. but damned if that isn't him. see for yourself.