My first summer out here in Amagansett — the summer of ’15, when I was 10 months old — I did something that really freaked out Beagle Man and Mom. Beagle Man had gone for a bike ride, and I was hanging with Mom on the deck outside their bedroom. Then she decided to go for her
Of course my first MY PALS column is about Ruckus: He’s more than my pal — he’s my brother. We do everything together. Everything. If I pee, he’ll pee right over it. Same spot. And vice versa. When we get separated, we’re both really sad. While we’re together, though, we play nonstop. Ruckus always wins tug-of-war. Wrestling,
In my most recent post, I wrote about the dogs who crashed my high school reunion two weeks ago. What I neglected to tell you is that just five days later, Kemba crashed the after-school Writing Club I run at Bryant Elementary School in Bridgeport. Okay, so he didn’t exactly crash: The kids have been begging me
. . . And no, Kemba wasn’t one of them. But he certainly got his share of notoriety in absentia! Sandy Stark, the first of my classmates to spot me as I cruised through the doors of the Teaneck (NJ) Marriott at Glenpointe, said, “Well if it isn’t the Beagle Man!” She added that Kemba
Beagle Man and the Missus spent three days last week in Nashville. Maybe you remember that I’ve been to Nashville a couple of times myself? [September 2011, LA/XC-1, Ricky Storms N-ville; and September 2013, LA/XC-3, You Never Know Who You’re Gonna Run Into in Nashville] I know the B-Man remembers, because I heard
It’s 9:15 AM — a gorgeous, blue-sky spring day. I’m driving over to Winslow Park for a fun, relaxing time with my boys, Kemba and Ruckus. I park in the Westport Playhouse lot, in the absolute closest spot to the off-leash area, and open the doors. Both dogs make a jailbreak to where a cluster
It’s two days later, and I still feel like I was hit by a truck. The incident took place Wednesday, in Winslow Park, and it wasn’t a truck that hit me. It was two dogs. Two large, white dogs, running at full speed, like silent cruise missiles. By the time I became aware of them,
A snippet of conversation overheard between Kemba, Ruckus, and Ricky . . . RUCKUS: What do you make of this new, tiny, squeaky mini-person in the house? And how long d’ya think he’s gonna be around? RICKY: Bad news, Ruckster. The little guy is part of your pack now. Notice the way your mom and
All right, here’s the prize break-down in Matt’s 45-man March Madness pool: First place: $1,250; second place: $600; third place: $300; fourth place: $50; last place: $50 worth of (top-quality) toilet paper. And though Beagle Man won’t come out and say it, I know what he’s thinking: that he’s gonna win the whole shebang. Just listen to him,
Friday morning I got this text (screenshot, right) from Robby. The time was 7:37 AM, as indicated. Clearly he had SportsCenter on — no surprise there — as he was getting ready to head to the office. The teaser — BACK IN DAY: CARDIAC KEMBA — caught his eye. Of course, he had to watch —
