EAST LIVERPOOL Local authors will be signing copies of their books at the Museum of Ceramics during the First Friday celebration Friday. They will be near t
Fred Miller
Some years ago when Old Mange, the best dog I ever had, was in her worthless stinking half-blind senile years, she would sneak out of our house in the middle of the night through the cat door, trot a quarter-mile to the old Miller farmhouse and bark outside to be fed, waking up my elderly parents.
My mother, Ol’ Food, would get up and open the back door with something for the old dog to eat.
We apologized. My mother just shrugged. “She’s old, like us. You just have to put up with some things,” she said.
Apr 19, 2021
“You’re going to have to watch something. We’re down to 2 percent memory,” my wife said.
My response was a big sigh. I had intended to do work on the computer this evening, not watch a DVR’d ice hockey match or baseball game so it can be deleted to free up memory on the DVR.
“There’s three Penguins games and two Pirates. Do you want me to tell you which games they won?” Honey asked.
There’s something wrong about watching only the games that my teams won, but it does save a lot of time. . . especially with the Pirates this season. I usually don’t even know whether or not they won, but Honey does, because her phone believes she is intensely interested in sports outcomes. She isn’t, but her phone thinks she is because she clicks on update links when it offers them.
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FRED MILLER
To put you in the proper frame of mind for this story, forget the current spell of warm, springlike weather and go back to mid-February, with four inches of snow on the ground and a thermometer that hadn’t moved above freezing in three weeks.
On one of the coldest of those mornings Honey asked me, “Have you seen Flop today? I haven’t seen him all morning. I’m a little worried.”
No, I had not seen Flop the Cat, and I could not remember whether he had come in the night before.
Of our three young ex-gentlemen cats, Flop during the cold weather had transitioned from the least likely to the most likely to ask to go outside. And it is less of an “ask” than a sudden bolt past one’s feet when one of us opened the front door to bring in firewood. The other two cats, Fizz and Louie, would think they wanted to go outside until the cold air hit their faces.