The Chair He Bought, The Dog They Tried to Take, and the Choice

he spends most of his day sleeping on the distressed leather armchair in the corner of the den.

That chair was the first thing my late wife, Eleanor, and I bought when we moved here in 1978. It’s cracked, worn, and shaped perfectly to my back. But today, it had a neon green price sticker on it: $40.

I sat in my wheelchair by the window, feeling like continue reading …