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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Kemba Walker Herman was cleared yesterday for light fetching-related activities. He’s spent the last two weeks on the Injured List after hyperextending his right front elbow while tumbling tail over teakettle during a vigorous fetching session at Compo Beach on February 24. Team physicians at Winslow Park Animal Hospital reported that “Kemba’s gait looked good”
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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 —
It’s an oft-told Herman family tale this time of year. December 25, 2003 — Ricky the Beagle’s first Christmas. Matt is 22. Robby is 10. (Greg is 19, but he’s not part of this story. Sorry, Greg.) Matt and Robby are locked in one of their weird competitions: Whose gift will Ricky like better? Robby
You guys all know how I feel about Beagle Man. I’d do anything with him, and I’d go anywhere with him. (Even though he didn’t take me on the Epilogue Trip.) But there’s one thing I have to say: He’s a little bit strict and stingy when it comes to food. He claims it’s for my health — I had a
He’s ba-a-a-ck! That’s right, the Beagle Man has landed — right here in WePo after 21 days on the road. Of course, first order of business was his mushy reunion with Kemba, who bowled B-Man over, slurped up his face, reached his paws onto Beagle Man’s shoulders in a doggy-style hug . . . yada-yada-yada. Very touching.
Gained a co-pilot in Asheville: Carol. Then lost one in Greensboro: Matt, who stayed down in North Carolina to celebrate Thanksgiving with his in-laws. Matt put in two strong stints: one back at the beginning, on the Bourbon Trail and then up to Indianapolis; plus here on the southeastern swing, from Little Rock to Nashville