Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart [what a mouthful for a little dog] or Motezy, as we called him, was a beautiful buff Cocker Spaniel. He was given to me by my daughter, Kathy. He was about eight months old, an adorable ball of fluff, with the biggest brown eyes and big floppy ears. We just couldn’t help showering him with hugs and kisses. In 1987, my husband, Ray, and I moved to Utah. Motezy was almost a year old. I was writing letters to my son who lived in California, but soon they became very boring. What was there to write about? Fall is in the air. The leaves are turning to beautiful hues of gold, orange and brown. The frost is on the pumpkin. Nothing I wrote sounded interesting to me. I looked at Motezy and asked, Why don’t you write to your old buddy Pat? He looked at me with that quizzical expression, the look I have seen so often.
