I made an agreement with ole Goobie Dog; I don’t make fun of the way his hind end sways, and he doesn’t laugh at how slow I start to walk in the morning. Course, dogs don’t laugh at anything anyway: since the dawn of dogs, they’ve made a pact to never, ever, smile. Whenever a dog’s lip is pushed up, showing their teeth, their humans go crazy, cause it’s the closest thing they’ve seen to their dog smile.

We’re talking No-See-Ums here, the magic stuff, the stuff that makes our dogs so friendly.

Coming home on a walk, about a block from the house, invariably, Goobie shows emotion, grateful for the walk, leans into my leg, gets physical. Around the house, upon receiving sentimental petting, Goobie quickly busts out with the strong good-dog odors — they spread in milliseconds.

I’m thinking, as a guy gets older, some of our own beautiful odors get stronger too; or, if not odors, the something like electromagnetic impulses, flooding parts of our own bodies, if we encourage them. Comfortable, healing feelings. Most often they start in my upper or lower back, then spread in various directions. Sometimes I can direct their flow; this is exciting, and keeps me busy, laying in bed, doing electromagnetic exercises. When tired of the physical, a guy can go for the eye candy, closing your eyes and seeing what’s on, looking first for shadows, and they maybe images. So, as you can see, the edges of sleep can be loads of fun, if you know where to look for it.