D.O.P.-T.

[weofodthignen]

The old guy I was cleaning for in San Jose died back home at his summer place; he was a farm boy, had showed me a childhood picture with a horsie in the winter. He lost most of his hearing in the Korean War and was even deafer than me, and he was an old reprobate who held smut film evenings in his house for money, decades ago. I also hope his silly floppy misnamed dog Butch has a good new home; that dog was pathetically glad to see me every time.