stuart raze the man had two thick black walking sticks. one for each hand. he leaned into them like they were crutches, a skier adrift in a world without snow. he had wavy grey hair and a neat beard. his eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. he knew us before we could remember him. "i'm stuart," he said. "charlie's dad. my wife sue has him right now." we haven't seen charlie since sue got a warning from a city bylaw enforcement officer. she never has him on a leash. the man who wrote her up won't visit this park again. even if he did, it wouldn't matter. no one enforces anything in this city. not unless it involves some corrupt piece of shit giving themselves permission to disregard the rules and ideals they've sworn to uphold and abide by. but she was bothered enough to start taking charlie to another park. i don't think we'll ever see him again. "thank you for all you've done for him," stuart said. all we did for charlie was pet him, and talk to him, and give him treats. and we stopped him from running in front of a city truck once when sue called him and he wouldn't come. "we love charlie," i said. "he's been a great friend." if more of us were like that golden retriever, we'd all be better people. stuart has terrible arthritis. walking is his way of spitting in the eye of mortality. he wasn't going to let the pain in his swollen joints ruin a beautiful day. "i don't know what i'm doing," he said. "but i'm doing it." "that's the story of my life," i said. 220424 what's it to you? who go blather from