I am learning that the way to tell a good friend is to  pay attention to how easy it is to talk to him or  her. Good friends understand you, they understand what you are saying, they are nourishing and supportive without being intrusive and suffocating. Ron Dotson is a good friend, he was a Marine combat medic in Vietnam, he was shot and seriously wounded there, he is a minister now, his ministry is helping people in need, in helping the poor. He is from the genuine wing of Christianity that preaches compassion and comforts the poor.

I see him every few years, he is shy and generous, a good listener, a good friend. He came to Cambridge today to buy me lunch at the Round House Cafe and  come visit the farm. His son Jordan is every bit as nice and open as he is, I think he and I are friends also.

It is something of a special thing that Ron appeared today to be with me, a good friend of mine, who also served in Vietnam, has been hospitalized for treatment of a crippling and painful disorder, he called me from the hospital today to tell me where he was, and I asked him if there was anything I could do for him. He said the best thing I could do for him was to be his friend, he was entering a dark time.

I said that was not an issue, I would certainly remain his friend. Ron told me that was the best thing I could have done for him. Tell him I am praying for him, Ron said, tell him an old Marine medic from Vietnam is praying for him. Ron watched me herd the sheep with Red and the very boisterous Fate, our house-sitter Deb Foster says Fate is a puppy who thinks she is a kangaroo. True.

Ron is back to Ohio now, I haven’t seen him for three years and may not seen  him for another three or more. I hope it isn’t any longer than that, he is always welcome her and so is his son Jordan. I am learning that friendships come in all sorts of ways, and each one is different.

This year, one of my friends killed himself, another is in the hospital getting treatment that may take a while, another drops in for an hour or so every few years and returns to the Midwest. What is friendship, anyway? Trust and love, I think. And commitment. A good friendship feels good, you don’t walk away wondering what each other meant, what was really said. You just know.

Ron loved Red and Fate, two wonderful but very different dogs. Fate is Lenore’s equal when it comes to loving people, she even loves the people she spots on the street through the car window. I very much appreciate having a dog who loves people. I took Maria into town to get her car picked up and a woman walking by looked in the car window and yelled suddenly: “is that Fate? Is that the dog I’ve been seeing on Facebook?” She was from Florida, a reader of the blog, she was visiting relatives in Cambridge and just happened to be walking by.

“She is adorable,”she said, “and a honey!” I lowered the window – Fate almost shot out, she was so excited. You would think they had known one another for years.