In which my father celebrates the family pet

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From: Fred RotondaroTo: Cara McDonough, Vinnie Rotondaro, Kathy Rotondaro, Justin McDonough, Frannie Kelley Date: Thu, Feb 21, 2008 at 9:39 AM Subject: Dad in the pet doctor's office

Unable sadly to bring a fecal sample despite running after Lucy with a container and a spoon in the snow last night. Yelling, "Shit, damn it shit. Dog damn dog." Now. Sitting amidst the pee from the other little doggies in the place. I could be in DC in a bookstore. Having a young red wine at Sesto. But instead I am with the doggie everyone loves.

The Pop

Taking care of the important things

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On our way into work this morning: "I was thinking that when I die, if I die before you, I'd like to have a small, stone monkey on my gravestone. Like one of those squirrel monkeys we saw in Costa Rica, just sitting up there, with a mischievous look on its face."

"Why only if you die before me? You think I'll do this for you?"

"Well, you're the only one who knows about it, so..."

"Right."

"Or maybe - maybe a bird - a stone bird like a hawk or a falcon or something, swooping down -"

"Um - "

"Or maybe a real bird. Like, I don't know, maybe there could be some little holes on the top of my gravestone? Right? And I could pay someone to come and fill them up with birdseed? And then the birds would all land there."

"You think you'd have to pay someone to do that?"

"Well, yeah."

"Yeah. I guess that would be a pretty big job."