Some thoughts on wine

Some topics strike a real chord with readers. After my newspaper column last week about my dog's billy club of a tail, a lot of people wrote to commiserate.  I was relieved to learn my dog Otto is not the only pet who drove his owner to purchase stemless glasses in defense. And I was particularly haunted by one reader's story:

Thirty five years ago, I purchased a set of beautiful handblown antique wine glasses. I wasn't much for drinking or collecting things for a hope chest, but these were exquisitely thin crystal, perfectly shaped and delicately etched with grape clusters and vines.  I took the when at 20 I moved across the country to San Francisco, and then, when I moved to new york ten years ago, I stored them with a friend.  She had them shipped with the rest of her things when she moved to Florida last September. 

I went to visit her last weekend, and she said, hey, I still have your wineglasses.  She unpacked them from their professionally done bubble wrap, and put them on her kitchen counter, where we stood admiring them.  suddenly, one of her cats jumped up onto the counter.

I'm sure you can guess what happened next...