In which I recall the very recent past

Last night one of my mother's dogs died. He was a great big Golden Retriever, very personable and low-key. He was a handsome ex-show dog, an AKC champion. And very young to die -- not quite seven.

When I was single and living in Federal Hill, I used to volunteer to dogsit for him when my parents were out of town. She always refused.

The problem was not Federal Hill. There was a big park on either end of my street and plenty of places for us to walk. The problem was not with my dogsitting skills; before I lived in the city, I watched her dogs on many other occasions.

The problem was that he was such an attractive, friendly dog. My mother would say to me: you can't watch him. You meet too many women as it is.