Going to try with a little help from dog

I get by with a little help from my dog.

Calling it “help” however, might be a bit of a reach.

My wife calls it “controlling.”

Jem’s always been an affectionate, loving dog. When our pup Ruth died of cancer last fall, Jem seemed to sense my grief. Or at least that’s what I thought when he insisted on climbing onto my lap at every opportunity.

A lapdog since we got him nearly 14 years ago, it’s one of the few things he can still do. He walks with a painful gait, can’t jump into the truck, and is stone deaf. I take blame for the hearing loss. Had I been a better shot and not have taken so many o...