A couple of anniversaries past last week without notice on the blog- My Dad's birthday on the 12th and the loss of my dog Junior on the 9th. Hard to believe they both happen in the same week every year. I didn't have a chance during the week to reminiscence, but this morning I do.

There is very little to say that would be new. Reviewing the too few faded memories, worn and scratchy; like an old film played a few too many times. Trying to find a new detail in a story or image studied many times before. Or maybe just sussing out what their lives still mean to me today.

We don't get where we are by ourselves. In some respects we are all Post Turtles, balanced where we are with the help of our friends. It is that help that makes the post we seem to be stuck on disappear, so we lose that sense of not belonging where we suddenly find ourselves. Dads always help with that feeling. Hell; it's their job to set us up on the post in the first place, and then help us grow the legs to get down.

A good dog is a help there too. When you are stuck on the post, looking for a friendly hand to help you down, that hand may just be a paw. Sometimes all you need is for a push is the gentle nudge of your dog's nose against the underside of your hand.

You miss that when it's gone.

And sometimes waste the rest of your life looking for it again.

Folks look in various places. Other friends and family. Or a new dog. Maybe in religion. Or a bottle.

But the best place to look is inside. Dad didn't help you grow those legs so you could pull them up inside your shell. You are meant to use them for every post you find yourself on. And yeah, some of those posts are longer than what you have met before. So what?

You grew legs once; grow them again.

And then thank the ones who taught you how to get down.