V picks me at South Station, and in the car with her is her
gorgeous four-month-old puppy named Ripken.
This is her fifth golden retriever, and all her dogs are named after
baseball players. At home, is five-year-old
Gibson, who is a gentle giant. M calls him Baby Huey. Her three prior dogs (no longer living) were
Mickey, Harmon, and Wagner. V, who is
the most understated person I know, sent me a photo of Ripken when he was a few
weeks old. With the email including the
photo, she wrote, “You needn’t write back telling me how cute he is. All golden puppies are adorable.” But Ripken is more than adorable. His trainer
thinks he’s brilliant. He is. When V
makes a sleeping sound, little Ripken lies down. I want to show Alexander. I use the video function on my iPhone for the first time. Here it is:
Ripken keeps us entertained while M serves lunch. We are having a big dinner so we eat
light: a pear and a clementine. It should be enough to hold us for a few
hours, but we know it won’t. It does,
however, make us feel better about the calories we know we will be consuming
later.
M and I pose for a picture in M's gorgeous kitchen. Clearly, Ripken is a lot cuter!
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