What’s wrong with this picture? That’s right: I’m not in it! Last month Grace, my sweet, cutesy next door Vizsla, weaseled her way into a fashion shoot with supermodel Christy Turlington, for Loro Piana. (Which, it turns out, is a chic clothing brand. Yeah, I thought it was a musical instrument too.) Okay, I get it, so
A couple of Saturdays ago, Westport went absolutely nuts! It happened right around noon, when that guy Joe was announced as our next President. Cars honking all up and down the Post Road, and Compo Road South. Everyone grinning and shouting! Beagle Man went for a long ride on his bike, blowing his whistle like
Things I like: • Carrots. I like a lot of things besides my kibble, but this is the only people food Mom gives me. Of course I grab the better stuff when no one’s looking — bagels, salami, pickles, you name it — but then I get in trouble. Not big trouble, though. Risk-reward? Definitely worth it.
Are you ready for some football? I’m sure not! Beagle Man gets so moody during the football season. I wonder . . . do you think rooting for the Jets could have anything to do with it? The season began yesterday with the Thursday Night game (Super Bowl champs Kansas City beat Houston), but Beagle Man’s season
Beagle Man’s always telling anyone who’ll listen that there’s nothing he’d like better than for me to sleep in his bed with him. But it’s not gonna happen. Mom says, “Absolutely not!” and it looks like what she says goes. The thing is, I happen to know that a lot of my friends get to sleep in
We went up to Vermont over the weekend. Just Mom, Beagle Man, and me. Things were strange. Beagle Man took me for a walk along French Hollow Road. Said we couldn’t do our usual hiking trail around Equinox Pond, because we weren’t supposed to be near anyone. We drove to the next town — Peru
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For the first time since Matt and I made our pilgrimage to Nova Scotia in 2014 to pick out the then tiny and adorable four-week-old Kemba from his litter (“I’d like the one with the green collar, and the white flash on his nose”), I returned to Canada. Carol and I spent last weekend in
Not long after Ricky the Beagle passed on, Beagle Man announced to Mom that he needed another dog. “That’s fine,” Mom said, “as long as you understand one thing. He’ll be your dog. I won’t walk him. I won’t wake up with him. I won’t pick up his poop. And I won’t play with him.” I’m
Beagle Man and I were down at Compo Beach yesterday — and boy, was it a beautiful morning! (I hope you can make out the sun sparkling on the water in the photo, right.) I dashed over toward the cannons, as I always do, and when I got there, this lady started making a huge
Beagle Man always pats me on the head and tells me I’m a “good, good boy” — but I suppose could try to be even better . . . • I will keep my paws off the kitchen counter, and stay away from Mom’s chicken quesadillas. I’ll be happy with my same-old same-old kibble —
