Memoir
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By Carol Roper The puppy, Galleta, is having the “Zoomies,” dashing around the garden, zigging-zagging among young trees and potted plants squeezing between lawn chairs, disappearing behind the house then,like a magician, reappearing moments later. The senior dog, MIcki, sits on the deck balefully eyeing the new arrival, whom she despises. Evenings Micki sits on…
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BY Carol Roper Five years after I left, I returned to a rustic community in Northern San Diego to buy a small cottage for me and my dog to settle in for a long retirement. I brought my SUV to a stop at the edge of town in front of a California colonial style…
