I understand how mothers set the table for their sons missing in action – for years. Its not just to keep hope alive, but to make sure one is NOT doing something that the cosmos would take as a sign that he could now die. The ‘sighting’ of Buddy was a tugging of the heart-strings, but I think, an illusion born of wanting it to be true. So yesterday I took delivery of Walker, a two year old Great Pyrenees. He came in a wire kennel, covered in canvas on the back of a pick-up. He has more or less lived with goats on a farm all his life, but probably in a pen. Yesterday and today I have unsuccessfully tried to introduce him to the goats, but they always run off when he approaches, and he gives up. I will soon be very fit, hunting for goats at the far ends of the property, chasing up and down hills. They keep melting away, keeping quiet. I am going to get bells for the leaders – if I can ever catch them. (I remember those cow bells in Austria.) Meanwhile, a problem. I can’t leave the dog alone and loose – he might well just follow me home, or run away. So I have to shut him in the barn, which doesn’t help with the goat bonding. I got lots of feedback on Facebook about a new name. Walker won’t do. I am experimenting with Waldo (from JP). Worried it might get shortened to Wally.