The woman who lived across the hall from me freshman year was named Suzanne. Within a matter of days on campus her nickname became ?the bod? as she was tall, toned and graced with the kind of thick, straight blonde hair that could advertise shampoo.

Suzanne grew up in a nice suburb outside of Chicago and was the youngest of three daughters. Her mother baked the most fabulous cookies ever and shipped them up to us weekly (each cookie was always individually wrapped in a perfect square of wax paper). The cookies never lasted more than a day because we?d break into them when we were really high and devour them like we hadn?t just had a breakfast of cheetos and milkduds from the vending machine.

Suzanne had come to college from a special boarding school?kind of a halfway home in the middle of the Arizona desert designed to help juvenile delinquents straighten out their lives. She?d been there three years?or maybe longer, I don?t really remember. All I remember is one story of how Suzanne, dressed in skintight jeans and boots-- her eyes layered in make-up, faced down her mother at the front door saying ?Mom, if you don?t get out of my way I?m going to have to hurt you.? She was thirteen at the time.

Our first night out together had us hitting every frat and dorm party we could find and then ending up in a bar downtown where we switched to bloody marys around 5 or 6 in the morning and wondered where all the great college partying was that we had heard about. Cause these people? Total losers.

She let me wear her jeans. I let her wear my shirts. She bummed my cigarettes. I bummed her weed. We were best friends. That is until she slept with every guy on campus (including the one I was crushing on) and became a total skank.

She quit school midway into our sophomore year. A couple of years ago she showed up at a wedding of a friend with a child in tow. Turns out she got her PhD in molecular biology, was working in some high-tech lab and living in the suburbs of Chicago. Did I mention she was wicked smart?

I?ve been thinking a lot about Suzanne these past few days- particularly her wildness in the face of her mother?s gentle love. The reason she has come back into my mind is that 30 minutes after arriving at up at camp this past weekend, my dogs took off. Disappeared. Into the Maine woods.

I won?t drag you through all of the self-recriminations and self-flagellation I went through for the 24 hours they were gone. I?ll just share two things: pact with God; attacked by a coyote.

My pact with God? Pretty standard. Please bring them back to me and I promise to get them (and me) properly trained. Promise. Promise. Promise.

Attacked by a coyote? So it seems?the vet?s best guess. Though as you can see from the pics?Henry was running away since all the movement and gouges are to the rear. (Ollie seems to have been relatively unscathed and has only two minor gouges). And, they are, lucky to be alive at all.

So?I have been communing with the Monks of New Skete. Henry is with me and on a leash at all times. Ollie is with T up at Soliden and under close supervision at all times. And they will be trained. They will never, ever be off a leash again until they have proven definitively that they will always respond to voice command. And I? have been going through some major purging of the soul--- lots of alienation, feeling like a bad person, self-loathing, dispirited and tired.

Yet, things will move forward, I know they will. The big launch of the big product (at work) was released yesterday. *heavy sigh* That is one big enchilada off my plate.

The house is making good progress and I have a four day weekend over labor day when I will be working to get space ready to move all my stuff out of the rental apartment and up to Soliden.

And, T, if you are reading this--- you need to know that you are a mensch. A prince among peasants. A king among counts. A wild, irrepressible dreamer. A maker of dreams. The love of my life. And, though I don?t deserve you, I?m never letting you go.

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