“My idea of a decent dog is simple,” I’d told Ken, my new spouse, “Only three requirements. It should curl up on my lap, readily master commands and never shed. Not much to ask of a canine companion.”
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The Long Beach Police Department assigned my husband to rotating shifts the year our son, Steve, started first grade. So Bob slept mornings and worked evenings. On weekends often he’d pull a day shift. Our schedules rarely jibed.
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When I sat down at the computer this morning, I remembered my college days, tap-tapping out reports on my old Smith Corona typewriter. And then I envisioned the maple desk it sat on. I hadn’t thought of that desk in years.
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