By Mary Pannabecker Steiner

I can probably count on one hand the few important times in our married life that my husband did not have a camera at his side. The day we got married. The day our daughter got married. The moment each of our daughters took their first steps (this counts as two). The day we saw a bald eagle.

You get the picture. I'm sure there were others; I just can't remember them. Today as we set out on our usual Sunday morning walk, we checked our pockets for crucial items: dog poop bag (check), lip balm (check), tissues (check), pepper spray (check). All there.

Off we went on our usual route -- our first time in two weeks that we had the nerve to take the route that passes by the home of the pit bull. But with pepper spray in our pockets (as recommended by Everett, our favorite postmaster), we were confident that we could deal with whatever came our way.

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