Our friend Bacchus crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Tuesday. It's so hard to lose a friend. Vale, Bacchus. Sleep well, and dream wonderful dreams.

We're still in Mexico, going back to Tucson on Monday. Probably, we'll only stay there long enough for both of us to get groomed, and then come back here for another couple of weeks. Even if we lived here, we'd have to go back to Tucson every two weeks for grooming. Both of us. Actually, at this point, I don't know whose hair looks worse!

Bao has been constipated. This is something new, and not much fun for either of us. He can't understand what's wrong. He squats and looks up at me as if he's saying, It always used to work. What's going on?

I'm thinking it's partly old age, and partly dehydration (getting Bao to drink enough water has always been an uphill battle) It's not chronic, only every few weeks. People (including the veternarian and Bao's wonderful groomer Ginny) have suggested different things. Tinned dog food, for example, to increase his water intake. But he hates it. Milk of Magnesia works, but usually not until 3 am. which is inconvenient.

Suggestions, anyone?

Bao on his deck chair, poolside in Mexico.

And make no mistake about it, this is HIS chair. This is where he sits when we come to the pool. Here, and not anywhere else.

When everyone was being stupid about swine flu (of which there have been no cases in the Mexican state of Sonora ) we often had the place to ourselves during the week. And because the palm trees cast their shadows across these chairs during the morning hours -- and because I had my choice of every deck chair here -- this is where I got in the habit of sitting.

It's different, now. There are more people here. If we don't get down to the pool early, someone else has often claimed "our" spot. I accept this. Bao doesn't.

Bao wants to sit here. This is his chair. This is where he sits when he comes the pool. End of discussion. And if someone else happens to be sitting here -- well, he just jumps up and joins them. After I've explained the situation (in my slowly improving Spanish) most people just laugh and put up with him. But sometimes, I have to pick him up and carry him away. When that happens, he lies down and stares balefully at the interloper.

So we're heading down to the pool, now -- before someone grabs Bao's chair.

Bad Newz. Michael Vick is out of jail.

I'm not happy about this. A lot of people aren't.

Yes, I know. He's served his sentence. He's paid his debt to society. But here's the thing. He's never once said he's sorry for what he did to those dogs. He's said he's sorry he let his team down. And that he's sorry he let his sponsors down. And so forth. But in all his carefully phrased, psuedo "apologies" I've never heard him say he's sorry he tortured and killed all those dogs.

One can't help but think that he hasn't said this because, in fact, he isn't sorry. If he had it to do all over again, I suspect he would -- he'd just be a bit more careful about hiding the evidence.

Michael Vick did not "deserve" to be reinstated. Nor does he "deserve" a second chance, or forgiveness. Why does he "deserve" to be forgiven? Because he plays football? Come on. Give me a break. We're talking about someone who tortured and killed dogs. This is not someone you'd want to meet in a dark alley. This is not someone you'd want to meet, period.

And may I add that the idea of Michael Vick doing volunteer work teaching inner city kids to be kind to animals sends shivers down my spine. What can the ASPCA possibly be thinking? It's like sending Bernard Madoff into high schools to teach students how to handle money.

Nobody's suggesting that Madoff "deserves" a second chance. Is that because we value money more than life? Or because Madoff isn't a football player?