What would you have me say? A golden retriever made off with my heart. From far and wide, tennis balls would congregate under our china cabinet. In secret, one empty plastic flower pot from our greenhouse would find its way to the middle of the lawn to stand alone in summer. Its motive was never discovered. You may not know, but Beethoven was Miles Davis on any given day when we settled in to listen. And walking away from hors d’oeuvres left within easy reach was tantamount to a crime. In these ways, Duffer Dan divulged what the best of life could be. And though I may have forgotten much of his wisdom, on many an evening I still wait for love to quietly carry away one of my Bean boots in its soft mouth to the cool tile floor in the kitchen where it will drool a love poem there upon the leather just for me.