I just had an amusing Facebook exchange with one of my smartest and funniest friends, Kirk Ross. It reminded me of a cold, wet night years ago when he and I were sitting with a group of people in Henry’s Bistro in Chapel Hill.
Our friend John Cotter came in from the cold and walked up to the bar warming his hands. For some reason, John was wearing a belted tweed Norfolk jacket and a bucket hat, looking like he’d just come in from the moors, rather than Rosemary Street.
Kirk turned to me and said, “It was his dogs that found the body.”