Dear Wigleaf,

I'm writing from Walla Walla, Washington. When I moved here, people kept calling it "the town so nice, we named it twice," which sounded like all-the-time-sunshine-and-smiles until I learned the name comes from the Walla Walla Tribe who, along with the Cayuse and Umatilla Tribes, were forced from lands they'd occupied since time immemorial by the not-so-nice Treaty of Walla Walla.

I do appreciate the alliteration of being Wendy from Walla Walla, Washington. Wendy who writes with Winston (a very good thirteen-year-old dog). I'm trying to write this while puppy Edith again pounces on Winston, who struggles with arthritis and anxiety, and I start to think troubling thoughts. For example, remember those kindhearted Podlings from The Dark Crystal getting drained of life-force by the evil Skeksis? Remember vampires? Upsetting situations for the sucked, but given my canine companions, how bad would it be to siphon off a smidge of one creature's excess to smooth the rough edges for another?

I'm not a monster—friends have had to say goodbye to senior pets in recent months, and there have been lots of tears. Edith can't help that her joie de vivre appears vulgar. She needs more puppy playtime and better boundaries. We're working with a new trainer. I'd better close my laptop. We'll take a slow walk. Winston will sniff while Edith sploots in the grass in the shade of a Western chokecherry. Together, we'll enjoy Walla Walla.

My best,

Wendy