From the Back Nine: The Timekeeper

  • Wednesday, May 6, 2020 1:30am
  • Opinion
From the Back Nine: The Timekeeper

By Linda B. Myers

For the Sequim Gazette

I live with my sister and one other geezer. All of us are well into the ‘vulnerable’ category for social distancing (my sincere apologies to the medical community for never realizing how annoying masks can be, especially if you like to breathe without steaming up your bifocals).

Because we Three Amigos are well-seasoned, I take great umbrage with the protester whose sign read, “Sacrifice the Weak.” Just who you callin’ weak, pipsqueak?


I have lost all sense of time. I’m unsure of the day or the hour. Minutes crawl unless they flash past, too fleeting to register on my brain. With no schedule of places to be, time is out of control. I sleep whenever, eat whenever, shower whenever. With apologies to Eric Clapton, I feel unplugged. With even more apologies to Kurt Vonnegut, I’ve come unstuck in time.

The only reason an agenda exists in our house these days is my sister’s little dog, Caesar. He is half Shih Tzu and half Pomeranian (my nickname for this mixed breed is too rude to print in a family paper). Caesar was born star-crossed. His serious concerns and deep dreads regarding life make my own dog Dotty seem brainlessly content with her lot.

Basically, Caesar hates people. He has socially distanced all his little life, far preferring his own company to yours. If his teeth weren’t such a mess, he would bite at will. Now he just gums ankles ineptly. He’s a curmudgeon, a cynic, a nine pound Andy Rooney. So the fact that we’ve had zero visitors in weeks has brightened his days no end.

Except when it comes to his schedule for chow. He can tell time while we humans have all released it to flutter away on the wind. Doggy breakfast is at 7 a.m. Doggy dinner is at 5 p.m. This is not an ETA. Caesar is far more reliable than an airline when it comes to being on time. As the magic hour approaches, he circles the kitchen like a shark, might I even say, a dog shark.

The three humans in the house are not allowed to forget these times by so much as a second, or a banshee-sort of howl rattles the walls. Caesar is an alarm to rival tsunami sirens. His announcements are so terrifying, they can blast the plaque right out of your veins.

Because of Caesar, we will not become so free floating that we can’t return to normal, whatever the hell that will be. Regardless of the future for the rest of us, Caesar’s plans are locked and loaded twice a day. He’ll be at the trough on time.

Linda B. Myers is a founding member of Olympic Peninsula Authors and author of “Fog Coast Runaway,” historical fiction available on or at local retailers. Contact her at

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