Yes. In 1987, before the end of the Cold War, I took part in the Soviet-American Peace Walk, traveling from St. Petersburg (then called Leningrad) to Moscow with 200 Americans and the same number of Soviets. On that trip I fell in love with Dwight Wilson, another American. We married in 1991. |
When I was seven years old we got a Saint Bernard named Heidi, who grew to weigh 120 pounds. When I walked her and thought no one was looking, I’d lie on the cold sidewalk, sometimes in my pajamas and bathrobe and slippers, and close my eyes, pretending to be buried in an avalanche. Heidi would drape her body across mine and lick my face, trying to “wake” me up. She always succeeded. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to keep Heidi for more than a year, because she tried to kill the obnoxious little dog next door, and its owners did not think Heidi was doing them a favor. I missed her terribly, especially on long car trips when my family got tired of listening to my endless stream of stories and banished me to the back of our station wagon, and Heidi was no longer there to keep me company. Our next dog was a Wirehair Fox Terrier named MacGregor. His outstanding characteristics were attacking doorknobs and car license plates, flushing the toilet to get clean water, digging up wasps’ nests, and having epileptic seizures. When I felt like being mean, I’d make a buzzing sound like wasps, which sent him scurrying under my bed in terror. Mostly, though, I loved him. We also had a variety of turtles, and gold fish, all of which died mysterious deaths and got flushed down the toilet. And I had a hamster named Hercules that nearly got eaten by the Saint Bernard when I tried to introduce them to each other. |
