Playing the role of angry father...

Meet Kelpie and Comet, temporary roommates. I'm about to give them a cookie, which is the dog equivalent of my ice cream cone sundaes and explains that desperate, pre-fix look on their faces. (I just tried, unsuccessfully to upload the after photo of their glazed faces.) Anyway, they are staying with me for a week while their person, my friend D (who is even older than me!), is away being hedonistic and artistic at Burning Man. What I love about animals and especially dogs is they so clearly understand their roles: protect house, beg for food, love the person who feeds you like that person has never been loved before. I, too, have been playing a role in my marriage; I was given the part of my ex's angry dad and I played it with gusto. I played it until it hurt. It's what happens when a person has fuzzy boundaries. To wrap this all up a la Anne Lamott, if I'd been a dog, there wouldn't have been enough dog biscuits in the county to satisfy me. I was that good.