image by Megan Carter Headed out to play The Peats Ridge Festival for the next couple of days. Hope to see you there. I love you all almost as much as I loved my dog Bojo when I was a kid in Palm Springs. He got runover by a woman in a Cadillac with a martini between her unshaven legs while wearing a silk nightie. This was back in '71 of course when Elvis was still alive. The car rested precariously on Bojo's sweet little neck while I screamed in horror for her to "Back up! Back up!" After what seemed like an eternity she drove the car forward and Bojo popped up like an adreneline fueled jack in the box an made the most horrible barking/yelping sound I've ever heard in my life. My Dad drove him to the vet in our Ford Pinto station wagon while blood leaked from his torn neck all over my 11 year old lap as I held him crying. Mom drove like she was Mario Andretti and we rushed our little dog in and he was stitched up in the nick of time. It took him a few weeks to recover and he slept next me every night even though I was allergic to him. I cradled him to sleep each evening. Gosh dang it I loved that dog. He lived to be 17 and grew fat and old and eventually died of AIDS complications. ( just kidding about that) he died of dog cancer. My parents put him to sleep while I was off to college. I cried in my dorm room while my new roomates consoled me by laughing at me. I still hate them. Wow. This went on a little longer than I thought but I feel much better now. Today I'll let the rest of my anger go.