There's a full-grown, smiling, happy dog in Eric's house now... a dog. And that sure is something different... But... it's something familiar too. And it's something good... something pleasant; different, but familiar... Somehow everything's stayed familiar. Change must come, things are changing; but somehow things have stayed somewhat the same. Eric is finally starting to break away... away from the tumors (bodily and people-shaped), away from the physical structure, and away from the memories that have haunted him and held him back for so long. Yet before he steps out of the House door...

The puppy is housebroken now. And that's a start, a start... that's definitely better... The puppy's at home now too. The puppy doesn't whine, yowl or howl anymore, which is more than can be said of the rest of Eric's self-made family. But reality, reality... Eric's house just won't sell. And it needs to sell... it must sell, because Eric's other house has been dumped, that house has been dumped by the Ex as the Ex has become; self-centered, ego centric, selfish; a maniac. And Eric's house needs to sell because it looks like it's time to start over. And Eric must start over... For a few...

Quiet... for the first time in a long time, maybe forever... things are quiet... quiet except for the noises of day-to-day life... the vacuum cleaner, Freud's snorfuls... the squawks of Henrietta Chicken... currrent events. The normal sounds of everyday life are everywhere... but there's always something lurking in the background, something... Always... like rats under the floorboards maybe... Still, except for those muffled scuttlings, Eric's life has somehow become... safe? Safe... Quiet... safe... simple... No... not simple; simpler? Perhaps... Eric has settled in his home with Freud, his...

And the Dog Barks... Freud: a full-grown, fully trained, fawn-colored French Bulldog. Yes... that's Freud, and along with Eric, Here, Freud is Here... And Freud is the most familiar thing about Here. So, Here, in this new house they are... both, Eric and Freud... Here... Here... One unfamiliar thing about this house, Here, though: it's safe. Here's safe from the Banks, safe from old memories, safe for as long as Eric lives. SAFE... And Eric's never been SAFE before. But There, the old house, the waterfront manse, was continuity, and memories, There with all of its crushing, ghostly memories...

"He's BAAAAAAAAAAACK..." Eric's back, with Freud, his ever present French Bulldog, panting, snorfulling, and barking at his side... Eric's not where he was, perhaps he's not who he was... for better and for worse that... for better and for worse... But he's back. Eric's here in the present day now, in contact with his emotions, with his physical self, and with the ethereal... the new, all encompassing, electronic world. And Eric's reaching out to new people for the first time in years. He's ALIVE ... or "It's Alive..." ... ... ... and living, and moving forward. And Eric's trying hard to...

Every story starts at a beginning... every story, long or short. Every story begins at the beginning and moves towards a middle, and comes to an end. Always... And this is that beginning, a -beginning- of a story in two volumes... -A 21st Century Adult Fairy Tale...- A journey through time distant and time near, before and into the NOW... But it's not about a dog... not in that beginning and and not in the now... The NOW... it's not about a dog... And so it begins... and the puppy ain't here yet. Nope... It's not even close by. Ziggy, Eric's six year old dog, is scampering about the house in...