A walk in the cemetery

"Your guess is as good as mine," is my response to the question, "what kind of dog is he?" [She wears a blue harness, hence the persistent error.] Today, as Lilith and I walked out of the cemetery, a woman with a phone and an iPad was standing beside the road. She approached, cooing over the dog. She had two dogs, in heaven now, a Maltese and a Pomeranian, and she misses them, but she has a job here now, and a mother. There was a photo of her dogs on her phone, which she pushed my way. I mentioned that funerals have been called off in Italy. (The guard at the entrance had said to me, "They didn't shut their borders fast enough!"). She's Chinese ("I haven't been there recently," she quickly added); the memorial for the dead in China in April won't happen this year. (Isn't this an appropriate year, I wondered). Her phone rang and she answered it in Chinese. Lilith and I exited the cemetery, heading home down Kahekili, passed an old man in a Purdue Boilermakers shirt. Lilith barked at him as we walked by.