Kemba’s making me throw this stuffed Hello Kitty. He won’t chase a ball — ONLY hello Kitty . . . Thus begins a text from Elise, my dog sitter — and it doesn’t surprise me. My boy can be pretty particular about what he chooses to fetch. It’s hard to throw a stuffed animal! Elise continued. (You’ve
I’m not gonna lie. I think my dog is gorgeous. The thing is, I’m not the only one — not by a long shot. Every day I get stopped about Kemba’s appearance. Just yesterday, while we were walking around Equinox Pond in Vermont, two different dog-owners expressed variations on this same theme: “That face! He’s the
Jumped out of the shower just in time to see The Man in Orange make yet one more preposterous, self- congratulatory speech — Straight Outta Fantasyland — before jetting out of Dodge. A good start to the day! (Later, listening on radio, I’d hear the Rev. Al Sharpton say, “Pettiness is now on a flight
From time to time, circumstances force my hand and I have to leave Kemba with dog sitters. This pains me, because I’m sure he can’t be totally happy when he’s not in my company. My logic behind this belief? Well, I know that I can’t be totally happy when I’m not in his company, and I assume
From time to time, circumstances force my hand and I have to leave Kemba with dog sitters. This pains me, because I’m sure he can’t be totally happy when he’s not in my company. My logic behind this belief? Well, I know that I can’t be totally happy when I’m not in his company, and I assume
Last night, on the first night of Chanukah, Kemba got an orange-and-blue Chuckit Ultra Ball. This is by far his favorite kind of toy. He used to be content with regular tennis balls — he’d fetch them 24/7 — until he decided tennis balls grow on trees and were no longer a big deal. These days only
Heading out to dinner last Friday night. I began scooping up my things — car keys, phone, reading glasses, mask — but I didn’t see my wallet in the drawer by the front door where I usually leave it. “Have you seen my wallet lying around?” I asked Carol. She, of course, gave me the look.
“We interrupt this blog about dogs to bring you some breaking news: The House Formerly Known as Camp Herman has been torn down . .” That’s how I started my mid-June post (“Glory Days“) about the demolition of the house my family lived in for over 30 years — from 1987 through 2018. The bulk
It was all quiet on the eastern front. I’d been flinging the Green Ball into the ocean for Kemba to retrieve for a good 45 minutes now, and he was happy to follow my command to “read and relax.” I was comfortably leaning back in my sand chair, book spread open on my lap, and
On October 25, 2014, I spotted baby Kemba striding happily along with Steve the Breeder in the parking lot of a Homewood Suites motel in Scarborough, Maine, near Portland. This was the rendezvous spot where I was to take possession of my 10-week-old Duck Toller puppy. The last time I’d laid eyes on the little
