love, morty

Years ago I wrote long emails full of Sturm and Drang about my life to my friend Eric. I always signed off, “Mortally yours” and one time he wrote back, “Dear Morty.” The name Morty became a placeholder for feeling mortal, vulnerable, humbled. Then I got a puppy who was expressive and bossy, with sensitive hearing. Go know. I called him Shlomo, Jack, and a bunch of other names until it dawned on me that he is Morty. He keeps me feeling oh-so-mortal. At first I wrote all about the puppy, but as per always, one thing inevitably leads to another.