Memory stick

Last night I had a request to write a piece set in the far future, say, a thousand years from now. The problem I have is the starting assumptions. Does the world reach technological singularity or does everything wind down due to environmental degradation? Well what follows are two short stories about the same character.

Memory stick

The swell was immense. In the great troughs of the waves nothing could be seen but blue sky above, on the crests, the watery world we floated upon was revealed. An even score of worthy ships rode the seas. Full three masters surfed down the flanks of the great mountains of water, sleek cutters struggled to maintain forward momentum before breaching the crests. The watch, up high, kept count of our fellow travellers, sometimes a whole vessel could be seen on another peak, sometimes only the very tip of a mast, or nothing at all. Horizon to horizon the ocean pitched, the wind blew up some froth, but no breakers were observed. The relentless wind drove us onward. Six hundred and seventy souls on this undulating aquatic terrane. The voyage only ten days old.

Vernon, the Diagra’s chief mage, was my master. In the years ahead he would be my teacher, mentor, and ultimately, predecessor. His influence had procured and provisioned this adventure with no explanations given, only demands. He alone knew the true reason for this venture, only he could make un reasonable demands.

It was not rare for ships to leave the port heading to head west as we were. It was also not rare for little convoys to leave together. But, it was unheard of that someone as powerful as Vernon to be in the crew. Why, he could have transported all of us in one blink to anywhere in the universe. He had gained access to the highest levels of knowable knowledge. He was, in effect, a god. Yet he denied any desire to exploit this power (myself excluded).

A few years earlier, I think I was about 10 or 12, I had asked him why he didn’t want to be king. His reply changed my young life 'A good question boy', he crouched down to my eye level, took both my hands in his and fixed his eyes upon mine. I fell into the universe, or that is how it felt, tumbling out of control as whorls of gas and pin lights of starts swirled around. Through will I gained control and began to soar through the spectacle that unfolded. I understood the wholeness of what I saw. For many months or maybe years I roamed alighting on suns, conversing with strange beings and becoming at one with the other souls let loose in the cosmic soup. This reality ripped apart and there I was staring at Vernons face as he crouched in front of me.

'Very good boy. You are to be my servant. You can take that as a very great honour, you are to be the first and last that I apprentice'. I didn’t argue, In reality I couldn’t talk. So it was done and my life is what it has become. Of my family only my mother was concerned. My father, then the king of Aranta, already had five heirs older than myself so I was mere background noise of no import.

I later found out that that little holding hands trick he did would only work on a 10^th order freak and that, not my privileged ancestry, got me the job. It would take a full fifty years before I achieved the right of freedom once more.

Vernon was about 300 when I first met him, although he would never really specify his age. In looks you might judge him to be perhaps fifty, but a very healthy fifty. In nature there could be no guessing. I deduced this number from historical records of some of the places and names he dropped from time to time. That and the fact he often referred to his mother by full name, My great grandmother some 16 generations past. Now this might have been a rouse but it did fit with a lot of other things I gleaned from the family history.

His demeanour switched from sullen adolescent to that of the highest lord during the course of a sentence. The forgetful professor, was his most common mode. I don’t think it was actually forgetful but more of a lack of concern with the goings on of the temporal world.

His powers were immense and to my young eyes unlimited. He could wink at a person and ensure a long healthy life. At a thought an illusion of his liking would spread across a kingdom. Literally night to day stuff. He never manipulated matter that much, it was just as easy but he said that meddling with human existence was more than enough. And so it was his influence that had created the first stable society on the planet. He did answer to the higher authority and in due course so would I. We all serve.

The one weakness that Vernon had was his deep affection for mechanisms. He employed a team of craftsmen for almost the duration of his time on Aratna. Specifying this, pointing at that, developing what he termed the future. Apparently I was to be the last of our particular profession.

I did take on the team after he passed on, his interminable visits after that time ensured his work continued. It was painful drain of my time: training, coaching, attending, funerals, picking new apprentices, lobbying provisions, it distracted me from my main task. But that was my contract.

Ah, I see I have been distracted from my story, yes there we were, I a young boy just sprouting hair on my chin on the deck of a pitching vessel with my 300 year old master. I had been in his charge for only a few years at the time and new a lot about assembling gears and cogs but little of magic. I had digested a thousand books of lore, read a million letters and had mastered though distance but had no experience of the world outside my fathers’ court or Vernons workshop. Life onboard a fleet ship, crewed by some of the hardest cases in my fathers navy, was educational.

The weeks drew on and my education continued. Petty illusions and mind touch were my tasks, that and cleaning up after Vernon. He assured me that humility was my real lesson. And looking back he was right. I also sat in at the daily meetings, the captain updating the days progress, the state of rations amongst the fleet, our remaining duration and the like. Truly boring stuff that even I could deduce with my limited powers. I am guessing Vernon already had completed the voyage a hundred times over in his mind. But still we attended the ritual and Vernon played the interested interloper.

Why didn’t we just emerge at the destination? It would have been a lot quicker and a lot less stressful for all involved. He had a plan and he wasn’t telling me. I couldn’t even begin to deuced the reasons.

Finally, after six weeks at sea the watch called land. The crew gathered at the rails and sure enough, as our sturdy vessel peaked on the swell, the distant coast was revealed. Vernon conferred with the captain. Maps and diagrams were drawn and a new course was plotted. A vector almost parallel with the new coast line but gradually closing the gap. The crew just wanted to make land fall, to feel real ground below their feet and drink fresh water. Vernon gave strict instructions that all magical activity was to cease. The message of the new course was given to the various captains and the instructions to cease and desist was spread amongst all wizards on the other ships.

That night the clear sky and fair winds that had marked our voyage collapsed into the most violent storm I had ever experienced. The ocean was a seething mass of pitching waves and white water. Lightning cracked from the heavens. I remained huddled against the bulkhead in Vernons cabin while he was on deck overseeing the mellay.

By morning all was calm under the grey sky. One ship and fifty crew were unaccounted. Two of the other ships were severely damaged. In the calm our reduced armada re-grouped and repairs effected. We tried our best to patch up the injured but with out utilising the healing charms our efforts were next to useless. Vernon ignored the many pleas steadfastly refusing the use of magic.

By that evening a four more of the crew had been laid to rest. Temporary masts had been fitted to the two damages vessels, rigging and sail repairs were well underway. Our voyage continued.

Finally after skirting the coast for another two weeks we turned for shore. A huge natural harbour of untold beauty came into view as we rounded a head land. Dense green forest, tall trees, a fast flowing stream and untold game were ours to be had. It was as if we had been delivered to paradise. Quickly shore teams set up our temporary base. The crew were eager to experience dry land after so long at sea. Vernon had his private tent set up in an area on the slope just above the rest of our encampment.

He called me to his tent. Inside he had set up the usual array of his paraphernalia – Mechanisms hung from the ceiling, a collapsible office had been erected on one side and his bed, complete with a mosquito net sat on the other. He sat at the desk with a plane black box in front of him.

'Thus far you have been a spectator in this game, now you must take you place at the table'. He was always full of this sort of talk. He opened the box and withdrew a contraption. I recognise the mechanism as a difference engine but with the input dials adjusted by a form of compass I had never seen. And then ignoring his previous sentence he set to work adjusting the delicate device as if I did not exist.

After a time and some muttering he released a latch which had held the pointer. The pointer swung through the hemisphere of its movement. The gears and cogs below whirred obediently and fell silent as the compass point decided on its final direction.

'There'

'There what?' I replied

'Can’t you fathom the machine and the significants of the reading?'

'It is the direction and distance to something?'

'and time' he added.

So if the output was in standard measures the ‘something’ was about 2000 measures directly inland from or location but at a declination of 45 degrees. The when was ten days away.

'But what?'

'The centre will be there then'

'The Core of Existence?'

'What else could I mean and do not refer to it as The Core of Existence. Those are the words of the uneducated. I would expect more of you'

The myth went something along the lines that the source of all that was was momentarily available on our plane of existence. This point contained ultimate knowledge.

‘I plan to use the centre as a doorway to the next plane of existence. You must understand that it is not a magical device but an artefact. My life work has been to understand its essence and now is the culmination of that work.’

‘I see.’ Although in reality I still didn’t have a clue about what he meant.

'Ah my young apprentice I see you don’t’. I guess he didn’t need to use PSI to see through my ignorance.

He then went on for about an hour describing the intricacies of Boolean algebra and the representation of reality using differential equations, probability and massive matrix operations. I did understand the fundamentals – I was a good student but I failed to grasp what he was driving at.

I guess suspect he was gloating and desperately needed someone to boast to, someone who could appreciate the cleverness and perseverance. To bad his best option was a pubescent apprentice.

Finally he pulled it all together for me. ‘So as you can clearly see it is possible to simulate an entire universe with what ever parameters you desire given a mechanism with enough capacity to represent the state of the created universe. The boundary is tricky but by observing the partial state overflow it becomes possible to interrogate the system from within the simulation. Further…..’ I glazed over once more. Was he saying we were the simulation?

End of part 1

Right and wrong

This is my list of things that are good and bad in the world. It is my list and only applies to me.

Wrong

1. Inequity
2. Greed
3. Short sightedness
4. Disregard
5. Foolishness
6. To few controlling too much
7. nationalism
8. religion
9. The human life span
10. Over exploitation (in all forms)

Right

1. love
2. Family
3. The earth
4. Communication (full blast)
5. Science
6. Rhetoric (as distinct from spin)
7. Music
8. literature
9. Art
10. Diversity

I restricted my self to 10 each and the lists were made up in a hurry. I will think about these matters more deeply and see if I change my mind.

Prejudice

From the lofty hight of my comfortable existence I feel things are going pretty good in my little spot on the globe. I feel a general well being of my fellow country men (and women). This is an easy trick; I just forget my past and don’t look too closely at the edges.

When I do look closely is see my society as a diamond rather than the traditional pyramid. A few on top a lot in the middle and a few on the bottom. This seems a fine thing. As I step back I find my diamond society fits snugly into the pyramid of the larger world population. The billions working for bare existence just to support my lifestyle.

My leaders (and most western governments) tell me not to dwell on the working poor of the world – they live elsewhere. They are not my countrymen and therefore do not count. But I look at the made in China, Philippines, Indonesia etc labels on the products I use and know there is a problem. I know that the person who sewed my shoes or assembled my latest gadget didn’t get the best part of the deal.

Prejudice exists. It seems to be a constant of human nature. I am aware of it both with in myself and without. The leaders of my country encourage division and not unity. As leaders they are leading us astray.

It happens at so many levels. They tell us that the unions are lazy. That the working and unemployed poor deserver their lot in life and that they deserve no assistance from the government. We are taught to distrust the other. We are tough to disregard others when we are doing alright for ourself.

The war on terror and my countries part in it would seem to be the most divisive tool in this game. All this effort to stir up distrust has worked. Last year my country saw its first race based riots in 50 odd years. Deep divisions are forming at the fringes. .

So instead of celebrating diversity, encouraging alternative views and above all equity we are taught that compliance is good, different is bad and to disregard the ‘other’. Instead we wave the flag and all gather in a huddle of our uniformity to protect ourselves from the foreign hordes at our door step.

Don’t get me wrong, I have prejudices. I do feel it: I can’t help it. I feel threatened in certain situations that would not cause and concern if I was in the same position with people from my own ethnic background. I can’t help these traits that have been so strongly indoctrinated since I was a child but I can overcome them.

So my fellows enjoy the results of having masses of low paid people working for them with out the inconvenience of having to live in the same country. And perish the thought of considering them as equal human beings. It’s all rather nice isn’t it.

The big question

There is one fundamental assumption that is made by all science. It is the idea that the universe has some knowable underlying principal. Now it is a big assumption but all of our probing to date seems to confirm this assumption but it is still the biggest unanswered question. I guess that is what makes science great. There is always room for the next test.

The history of physics has depended on this assumption with spectacular results. But what if it is wrong? What if the universe is just a collection of disjointed rules? Perhaps there is no unified theory of everything.

Imagine if there is no real relationship between quantum mechanics and the big world. That there really is some imaginary line where quantum mechanics breaks down and relativity takes over. That gravity and the other forces really are separate deals. Perhaps the rules that allow consciousness to exist are separate from the physical laws and so on.

What would this mean for science if relentless the reductionalist principal hits the brick wall? I don’t think we have to worry too much about that. So far the evidence is fairly conclusive.

Frontier town

I had a thought. Fundamental science researchers are like the early explorers of old. Seeking out new land, beating new paths. Sometimes they would fail; either consumed by the environment or their over estimation of their capability. Sometimes, if they were lucky and the new land fertile small groups would follow, set up villages and then towns. They work on the frontiers while the vast population fills in all the gaps in the discovered territories.

Math

The number of scientists and engineers being produced by my country is dropping alarmingly. The educators are all running around in a fuss trying to figure out what is wrong. It seems obvious to me; our education system discriminates against people who have poor communication skills. The most obvious give away is the relative achievement of boys against girls.

The changes have been subtle, but enough, to discount reasoning and visualisation abilities while elevating language abilities. So a child that would have bumbled through primary education but excelled at math and science in secondary education are so thoroughly beaten by the time they get there they consider themselves worthless students. Add to this the dumming down of the math and science syllabus by ignoring a fundamental understanding of mathematics and the problem becomes self evident.

I believe the syllabus has reduced these subjects to emphasise process and describing rather than equations and diagrams. There is no emphasis on the proof, the ability to logically present a mathematical argument. The visualisation of the mathematics replaced by the ability to regurgitate.

You see I was one of those students who failed primary education thoroughly. I am not a communicator – at least I wasn’t until I discovered the word processor. But when I got to high school I discovered geometry. It was just so easy for me. We did science, once more the facts of science stuck and resonated with me. I could ‘see’ it. I continued to fail the humanity type subjects but there was a couple of subjects that I could be good at.

And that is the point by the time I did upper school I could choose to do math and science courses with standard English as the only non-option. My math and science note books were filled with equations and diagrams not words. I was doing stuff that I could excel at.

Perhaps some early testing of students could stream out those that have high reasoning ability and protect them from the near useless requirements of learning to spell or times tables or other like tasks. Give them word processors, calculators and special courses on business English; use short sentences with simple words. It would be more efficient and allow these kids to develop their talent and not be dragged down into a quagmire of having to communicate with expressive regurgitation.

I am sure there are enough kids who like to write and talk to fill the needs of society with out interfering with the progress of those that will be needed to invent the new world and keep it running.

Move on

Enough of the melancholy.

Shannon - Herry Gross

I know it is copyright infraction but I heard this song on the radio. Seemed nice...

SHANNON
WORDS AND MUSIC BY HENRY GROSS
@1976 BLENDINGWELL, ASCAP

Another day is at end
Mama says she's tired again
No one can even begin to tell her
I hardly know what to say
But maybe it's better that way
If Papa were here I'm sure he'd tell her

Shannon is gone
I hope she's drifting out to sea
She always loved to swim away
Maybe she'll find an island
With a shaded tree
Just like the one in our backyard

Mama tries hard to pretend
That things will get better again
Somehow she's keepin' it all inside her
But finally the tears fill our eyes
And I know that somewhere tonight
She knows how much we really miss her

Shannon is gone
I hope she's drifting out to sea
She always loved to swim away
Maybe she'll find an island
With a shaded tree
Just like the one in our back yard ...
Just like the one in our back yard ......

Kosros tale

Good stories

As a way to cheer up our son (and me) my partner and I told stories about Kosro. It was a celebration of a good life. So here are a few Kosro tales.

The beginning

One rainy afternoon, February ’91, in a light industrial section of my town my darling was having lunch. She noticed a skinny young dog trying desperately to eat the bark of a tree. The dog was friendly but obviously starving. As is her nature she took pity on the poor thing and that evening brought it home. She fed and took care of the young dog and informed the local authorities we had picked up a stray. I think She might have also put in a ‘found’ add, but I can’t truly recall.

After a week or so it became obvious that no one was going to come forward. Dumping of unwanted pets happens. So we had this energetic young dog on our hands. First things first we had to do was take her to the vet for the usual checks and vaccines. Now to book a dog into a vet you need a name – ‘Dog’ would not do. We went through dozens of names but none seemed appropriate for a dog that we had been calling ‘dog’ for a couple of weeks.

Then my partner had an idea. The government of Micronesia had given the company she was working for at the time a few copies of a book relating some traditional Micronesian stories. One of the stories was about why dogs hate cats, I can’t remember exactly why – something about cats being sleazy, any how it gives the Micronesian word for dog; Kosro. So Dog was renamed Kosro.



Seagulls

At the time We lived quite close to a beach and in our part of the world there are beaches where dogs are allowed to frolic and play and those where they are not. Luckily the beach closest to us was a dog beach. Seagulls also frequented this particular beach in reasonable numbers. Kosro would pelt down the beach, flat out, barking and yelping sending waves of gulls into the air. Then come proudly trotting back to us. The gulls would re-settle further along the beach and the process would be repeated. This was amongst her favourite games.

As time went on she learned the ways of the gull. She would approach them from high in the dunes then run toward the water, double back as they took of with the prevailing wind. As they flew Kosro would leap into the air barking madly at them. This too was great sport.

She would always go for a dip regardless of the weather (we frequented the beach all year round). We would play fetch with a stick or, on occasion, ball. The only problem was that she got bored quickly with that game and would start chasing gulls or sniffing other dogs. This was no problem if you threw the ball along the beach but a real bummer when your ball is floating out to sea. We learned quickly not to throw the ball into the ocean unless the wind was on shore….

When either my sweetheart or me went for a swim the dog would follow. This was fairly normal. The abnormal thing was the sound she made as she followed us. It is hard to explain but we called it motor boating. Sort of a bubbled whine. Phonetically hmglbgl hmphglbl hmphglbl woof. We though it was hilarious until she would catch up and try to climb out of the water on one of us. Eventually she did learn to swim with us and would be relaxed enough for one of us to catch her in our arms where she would just float along.

One afternoon after her usual mad run at the gulls and her obedient return she started her stealth run up the dunes. Running to the upwind side of the gulls till they noticed her and then cutting down wind. She gave a mighty leap and caught one by the wing. My partner screamed and the dog let go. I don’t know who was in more shock; the bird, the dog or my partner. This was the first time I have ever seen a dog pull a bird on the wing. She did manage it one more time about a year later but by that time our son had come along and we didn’t frequent the beach as often.


Cat

Dogs hate cats. I know this from Micronesian folk law. Kosro upheld this rule. Late one night our neighbour called to tell us that Kosro was barking (and keeping her awake). Our house was well insulated and on a fairly busy road so ignoring outside noise was not hard. It was about 3:00 in the morning. I went outside, chastised the dog and went back to bed. After a few minutes the dog started again – I was tuned in. This process went on for the remainder of the night.

The next evening when I came home from work the dog was still going off. I noticed she had worn a track around the base of the almond tree. Looking up in the tree revealed a cat clinging to one of the more spindly branches. I got Kosro inside (despite her attempts to stop this happening) and went to the tree. The cat didn’t seem to want to move (and I didn’t want to climb a spindly tree to save it).

I did the next best thing. I got the hose and sprayed some water near the cat. It just clung onto the branch tighter. I admit I was just a little peeved with this animal for causing a disturbed nights sleep. Being a tad grumpy, due to lack of sleep, I adjusted the hose to jet and let the cat have it. About this time Kosro escaped – I think my darling was coming outside to tell me off for hosing the cat. The cat made its move. Down the main trunk with Kos closing rapidly. The cat managed about two bounds on the worn grass and hit the fence. I swear Kosro nearly cleared the fence after the cat. I also recon she was within millimetres having a piece of cat tail.

We never had any problems more problems with cats in our back yard – perhaps word had spread.

Jump Kosro

Kosro never had any problem jumping. When she was young she could leap to about my chest hight from a standing start. This gave me a (stupid) idea. You see at the time there was a dog food advert where a collie dog jumped into its owners arms. I though that would be pretty cool.

It happened that this wonderful idea came to me while my partner and I were shooting hoops at a local outdoor court. “Come on kosro jump” I cooed while I madly patted my chest. Well Kosro liked to jump and she did.

Now what I didn’t realise was that the dog in the advert lands against the owners chest. I also didn’t realise that a back injury that I had received several years previously was not fully healed. I grabbed for the dog, leaning forward a substantial amount to make the catch. As her weight fell into my outstretched arms I felt muscle part.

We collapsed in an ungraceful way to the bitumen. I couldn’t breath. I barely managed to roll onto my back. Kosro was very pleased, wagging her tail and licking my face happily. I couldn’t raise my arms to protect myself from the savage tonguing, I couldn’t even tell her to stop. And off course my dearest is practically wetting herself laughing.

Eventually I managed to breath. But laughter is contagious and laughing hurt. So there I am flailing away ineffectively at a happy dog, my partner is next to useless with glee while I am in convulsions of laughter/agony.


Nosey dog

Kosro was nosey. It was just her nature. When we would go for walks she would always be jumping up on fences to have a look on the other side. She would find cracks in fences to peer through. In our lounge room she would spend hours at the window watching the world go by. If the curtains were closed she would part them with her nose to look through.

One time her nosiness was rewarded by a cat. As we walked down a local street she jumped, front paws on a short brick fence, to have a nosey. As she looked over the fence this black and tan cat leapt up and clawed her on the nose. Offcourse it was on. Kosro straining at the lead to get at the cat, front paws of the ground. We pulled her along.

A few weeks later I was jogging with the dog and noticed the same cat perched on a brick column beside a front gate. The cat was at about my eye hight, Kosro had not seen it. As we loped along I reached out and pushed the cat of the column. Well I had to avenge the insult didn’t I…..


Rats

In our old house, near the beach, there were rats. Big ones. After cats, rats, were her favourite. The back fence was corrugated tin on a steel tube frame. It was overgrown with ivy. At least once a night you would here the thump of the dogs body hitting the fence followed by a series of barks. She did catch a few but never ate them. Her preference was a vigorous shake to break the spine and then settle down to a good licking.




Talk

One thing about Kosro was how easily she picked up new tricks. When we first got her she was very badly behaved. She would snap, nip and was generally out of control. As time passed she accepted our limitations and modified her behaviour. She learnt to cross the road, fetch, shake on command (a very handy trick before letting a wet dog get in the car after the beach) and to tell.

She was a vocal dog, not whiney or howling but barking. My darling spent some time teaching her to bark on command. This was handy. When I was away and someone came to the door she would be given the ‘tell’ command. It was also a neat party trick


Tolerance

Wen my son came into the house we were a bit nervous about Kos. As it turned out she was fairly indifferent to the newcomer. She did sniff and lick a few times but while the boy was a baby she basically ignored him. Over the first year or so we did cover a lot of miles together, the boy in his pram and Kos trotting along beside. The boy loved Kos. And she put up with all the poking and pulling a toddler will do to a dog.


Poo

Hmmm, I won’t tell that story.


Holidays

By the time we moved to our current address Kos was getting on. She would have been about 9 or 10. We were becoming more affluent and taking holidays was a priority. One of my partners work colleagues bred Dobermans and offered to kennel Kosro. Well he didn’t quite know what he was getting into. Apparently Kosro spent three happy weeks barking at the other dogs. When we got her home she was horse. Her former proud WOOF had been reduced to a hmff. She did get her voice back and did enjoy a few more holidays barking at the Dobermans.


Schools in

I guess when my boy started school life must have been a bit lonely for the old girl. One day she managed to work her way through our side gate went straight to my sons school. Apparently she had a marvellous time with all the kiddies until one of the teachers caught her and placed her in schools sports storage shed. As my darling was at work I got the call to collect the dog. Sure enough there she was all happy and waggy when I collected her.

I think she did that trick twice before I worked out how she was escaping.


Rock star

My son was forever making up stories about Kosro ‘The Wonder Dog’. He drew pictures of her with a super hero cape and scripted a move or two. He even went through a period of talking like a dog. Kosro took this in good grace and always would wear the cape.

One time I was fooling around with Fruity Loops, a kind of simple music generation program, when my boy decided to write a song for her. So he put together some beats, a simple cord and he and one of his friends recorded the vocals. It was sweet, in a electronic techno sort of way.


New dog

Last year a new dog came into our life. Kosro was quite old but accepted new dog with out a problem. The new dog still had many puppy characteristics but Kos never snapped at her. They played well together (even though the new dog was bigger and much younger). It was good to see her playing with another dog. Even in her senior years she was still quite spritely (if not a little stiff).



A friend

When ever we returned home she would be waiting at the door with her doggy grin and a wagging tail (even if you had only been out for a few minutes. If you wanted a bit of fun no problem. She would tug of war, barge around or catch a ball with the best of them. If you were just sitting around she would join in. When you worked in the yard she never seemed to get in the way but she would be there when you called.

Her favourite was to push her head between you knees so you could scratch her back. If you were sitting down on a step she would often stick her head under your arm for a pat. If she was feeling playful she would push her shoulder into your leg and dance around with her mouth open and tail wagging.

And it wasn’t just me. My partner (maybe more so), my son and our friends all got the same treatment. She was just that sort of dog.



The end

We laid her to rest in the back yard and planted a tree on the grave. It will be a good tree.

Kosro we love you.