Hockey and Dogs Part Deux

***At my grandma's farm in Lamar, Missouri; June 2003***

I know this isn't a hockey column, but congrats to Marty Brodeur of the New Jersey Devils, who became the NHL's all-time winningest goaltender in NHL history--and he's still going strong. He's my favorite ever, so much so that at a Wild game a couple years ago, I raced from my upper-level seats to the lower level so I could watch him up close in a shootout. He was brilliant, as always. I vividly remember my first exposure to him, in the 1994 conference finals vs. the NY Rangers. He stood on his head and quickly perched himself atop my favorite goaltenders list, which is saying something being that I have a lifelong hockey goaltending fetish. Those 1994 playoffs ended three months before I adopted Bernie.

I grilled a t-bone steak tonight after a bike ride. It is nothing short of tragic to have to put a beautiful beef bone in the trash, not handing it to my puppy. She'd make quick work of them, eating them entirely within two or three minutes. She was a good dog, I dreamed about her last night. My dreams are normal, just doing the things Bernie and I did. I guess it's my mind's way of subconsciously maintaining her presence. I'll center a post soon on Bernie and bikes, along with her magic ears.

As I mentioned once, Bernie, Poochie, and I got shot at back in the day. Yesterday, I visited one of my fifth grade students in the hospital who was shot. He is okay, and you can read about the incident here.

Happy St. Patrick's Day. I drank a Guinness, it was good! Go to Ireland someday if you've never been--or even if you have been.