I’m the kind of dog that looks at my water bowl as half full, not half empty; that is when Wendy remembers to fill it. As you may or may not know, I was a dog who was at one time only familiar with the extremes of baneful city life: the crowds the traffic and the crime. But nature’s extremes of vertiginous terrain were unknown to me. I was aware Abe Lincoln was born in a frontier log cabin and that Thoreau stole away to a similar abode and the family of Laura Ingalls Wilder had their little house on the prairie. But to me nothing beats the life of new advantage and all the smiling faces I discover on my walks at Prestwick. The American Dream is like that. Also on my walks I like to see women with fringed earrings that dangle and sway with the spirit and vigor of the roaring twenties.