How do you do it?

I don't know, but it's not like that, Jerry told me.

Well, how?

You have to push them, I don't know, he said.

Tell me what you do.

I don't know!

Just tell me!

Push them back and just open the door, but get Ozzy first, he said.

As I tried to let Ozzy out while keeping Hershey, Lily, and Bandit inside, I wound up with Lily's head poking between my knees from behind as I sandwiched her in place. Bandit stood to my right, and Hershey hopped around behind me where I snagged a handful of fur or was able to pinch an ear between my fingertips. That will hold her!

OK, I said.

I cracked the door open and hoped Ozzy would slip out, but lurched off balance as Lily pushed ahead. Tipping to the right I could have hit Bandit in the back palm first to break my fall, but I opted to crash onto my side instead.

You know what they say … it's not the fall, but the sudden stop at the end …

Bandit still stood indoors. Jerry: shut the door! Shut it!

Holy shut. Shut, shut shut, already. Damn dogs.

All four of them will go to the vet's next week for what I imagine will be the most expensive check-up on record.

At this time last year I was about a month away from adopting Lily.

To my friend Erin: we never know what the year will bring. We start off with daunting things -- too much, not enough, too far, too short -- but we finish the year no matter what, as if our feet were on a conveyor belt pulling us toward December. You said that I landed in your life like a butterfly. Yours is a mind that thinks of fluttering, cellophane wings wringing blue and red stains from sunlight like colored glass. Your hands drag a plain, stiff brush through ordinary pigment to make soft petals and glistening stems. Your girls are beautiful. These things are yours. Every single day. no matter what.