Hello, folks. Dog Minor here. Mom went off to something called an op-er-ah and left her writer on. She has lots to say, I can see, about that earlier friend of mine. He was the Major while I have always had to be Minor. Major might have been “Goodboy” (to some) though I have my own opinions on that, too.

“The retriever tries harder each morning to speak, more likely than not to share the dreams of the night just ended,” she wrote. Seems she expected the day to come trotting along when he’d actually talk. HA! But till then, she says she’ll try to put his thoughts into writing. Her writing. OK, here goes.

“I mustn’t go down to the end of the drive,” he’d say. “My people are very strict about that. I’ve looked (when they aren’t looking) and see nothing beyond the posts but a two-lane country road, a hill on one side with brush up and down in both directions. I’d like to explore more. I do talk a bit to the dog up the road but am forbidden social calls.

“My people say it’s dangerous out there. When she goes to get the paper each morning I am commanded to SIT, to STAY until she returns. Then I can carry it back up to the house where I know the jar of treats waits just for me. I know I am not allowed to go beyond that first dip in the driveway.”

Can’t claim I was ever that good. Sometimes my mind wanders off and then so do I. Now, in June, there is so much to explore — so much to see, so very much to smell — that I do once in a while forget about the paper … at least until I see she’s almost back to the house. Wouldn’t ever forget about that jar of treats.

Major again: “I have heard her talk often about the dog who came before me. I know where her bones lie in the garden. She ran outside the boundaries one summer day and did not return.

“I sat today with my lady while she pulled the darnedest little (for the most part) green things up that had been struggling to grow between the rocks. She kept a close eye on me. Once I forgot and dreamily walked on, smelling and enjoying a new sight. I’m sorry she had to call so loudly before I ‘woke’ and responded. I usually behave. I was christened ‘Goodboy’ and proudly try to live up to my name.”

Well, nobody ever called me “good boy” but I think I should be given some credit for I do try. Really. And there are few things I like better than being outside with her.

Part of my responsibility is to stay close to her when she works outdoors. Like her I heard the car slow as it passed the gate. She didn’t look up in time but I saw the young fawn, still brightly spotted, gamboling up the road just in front of the purple car.

And, yes, she’s right of course. Most cars on my road do not slow down.

One turned into the driveway while she sat pulling those weeds. Talk about moving fast — my lady, her bucket and the pad she sits on. But it was only a stranger, eager to back out and return in the direction she’d come.

“I watched three youngsters ride by on the bikes, their dog happily trotting along beside,” Goodboy wrote. “She saw them and was not disturbed. Her eyes told me it would be unnecessary to bark so I remained quiet.”

Sorry, I do try but I could never in a million years be that good. I do know about those speeding cars. And I never forget the earlier dog in the garden. Truth to tell, however, there have been times when I’ve wandered just beyond where the driveway ends.

Now that June is here, I have a new favorite place which, luckily, is inside where the driveway ends. The spring rains have made it swampy. (I found parts of a deer in there one year.) Now it’s simply remarkably oozy. Oh, I tell you, I wish you could share the joy with me for I roll and roll and then hurry home so proudly for I’ve learned that that black stuff will keep the bugs away. and it stays on my coat until … well, until my next bath.

Funny, she doesn’t seem all that happy to see me.

Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. “Her Reason for Being” was published in 2008 with “Love in Three Acts” following in 2014. Both novels are now available at Lakewood’s Off the Beaten Path bookstore. Information on all the Musings, her books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.