Big thanks to faithful reader JG for permission to reprint from our personal correspondence. She's heard about La Nook and she's asked for some stories. Here's today's:
I never thought about it but a few months ago when I told KCD about the time I passed out and woke up with my head bouncing off the pew in my neighborhood Roman Catholic church in Fort Green (Brooklyn) on Good Friday (1984?) and the ushers hustled me out of there and drove me home -- good souls, they assumed I'd been fasting -- if only -- don't ask -- but when I told KCD the story he said two things 1) "You never told me that story before." and 2) "You haven't started repeating your stories yet. Keep 'em coming!"
I mention that only because now that I'm aware of the looming potential for age-related repetition degeneration I have to give fair warning that I mightcould start repeating myself, especially when I dip into the Dog Files.
Once when I lived in San Diego one of the volunteers who worked with me handed me a Christmas present and when she read the pleasure on my face she interrupted my thank yous to say "Don't get too excited. That's for Nanook." She was so right in her blunt approach to me and that 
story still makes me laugh. And it's more evidence that Nanook had her own fan base entirely separate from any connection to me. I merely basked in the filtered glory of La Nook mystique.
Nanook (Requiescat in pace) and I lived at the beach, well, two blocks from the beach, in Ocean Beach, where Dog Beach is -- dogs off leash 24/7/365 -- and Nanook loved the water so she got lots of baths after her swimming and sand-rolling and the present that she got from her devotee was a big old bath towel with "Nanook Only" embroidered on it.
Still have the towel and I never used it on myself.
Read and obey, that's the way I roll.
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