We met  Bill this afternoon, he called out to us as we were leaving and heading down the hallway of the Mansion. “Hey,” he shouted, “can I meet your dog?”

Sure, I said and we veered in. Ed said his friend Pete, who lives next door, was taken to the hospital today and he was worried about him. He said he was a great dog lover, and I could see that he was and is.

He told me the story of Duke, his beloved terrier, who went outside in the cold and snow and brought the paper into Bill every morning. “I loved that dog so much,” he said, “he was a great dog.”

Where is he now?, I asked.

“I had to give him up,” he said, “I had to give him back to the breeder when I came here a few months ago.” Bill said the breeder promised that Duke would get to be a therapy dog, just like Red, Bill said.

The holidays will be hard for him, he said, it will be  his first Christmas alone. His wife of 62 years died last year, and then he had to give up Duke, he couldn’t take care of himself any longer in the house.

Bill and I talked about dogs for awhile, and then he shook my hand, and asked me what I do. “Well,” he said, “I never heard of you or your books, but if you want to bring me one I’ll read it.”  I will do that, I said.

Bill and I talked dogs for awhile while he stroked Red and praised. He was almost as good a dog as Duke, he said, and I knew that was the highest praise. I told him I’d be back in a day or so. Bring Red, he said. I miss my dog.

Before I left, Bill said “I miss my wife every day. You know…62 years.” I can only imagine, I said.

If you wish, you can write Bill c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.

I think he would love to see photos of dogs and hear about them.