My grandma, Nannie Mae, lived in a small house on a hill overlooking Rosier Creek in rural King George county. She never learned to drive so she depended on friends and family to take her here and there. Places like church and doctor appointments. Visitors often brought groceries and plants and good company. The postal carrier brought letters from her daughter in Texas, and she dutifully read them aloud to us all. And sometimes things just showed up — like the dog that made its way down the long dirt road to her house. Grandma felt obliged to feed the dog and so he made himself at home and stayed. She was not sentimental about pets but not hard-hearted enough to send the dog away. She tolerated the old dog and named him exactly what he was, Trouble.