Little Dog Lost by Steve Boreman for October 25, 2020

I think he’s frightened again now.

Gulp! Humidity high tonight!

It was all just a beautiful dream, love the compassion, love the art work, a triumph to Mr. Boreman

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Emma Lazarus (1849–1887)

I’m glad our intrepid traveller found some comfort, however that happened-

Oh, this one made me cry.

Oh, so touching! LDL will find his home soon, I hope!

I was still getting the print newspaper when this came out. I clipped it and hung it on my cubical wall. It is so beautiful, to me it is apparent God sent an angel to comfort to LDL.

The perfect depiction of poignancy.

This is your best one yet. All I can say is thank you.

Beautiful, Steve, again!. A friend in need, and any port in a storm.

Steve those two bottom left panels are just awesome. I don’t remember this one.

This one tugs at the heartstrings.

so precious