Weekend before last, on Friday afternoon, this monstrous, huge, scary ball appeared out of nowhere on the beach, in front of the White Sands Motel. I made sure to keep as much ground between me and it as possible. Beagle Man didn’t seem upset by the thing; he was focused on the lights being strung up, and said,
On Thursday, July 7, my good friend Nena (some would say my “girlfriend”) woke up having trouble breathing, so Luz and her niece rushed her to the vet. There was a mass in her lung, it turns out, and her heart was enlarged. Before they could even get her to a specialist, she collapsed and
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Got back from a quicky late-night bite at the Grey Goose. I’d been gone for maybe 45 minutes. Kemba greeted me, of course, at the playroom door, all in a lather. God forbid I’d get back from even the shortest trip without dropping everything to play with him. “Come on, Handsome, let’s go out in
The outlook wasn’t sunny over Winslow Park that day; But the parking lot was all but full, and Kemba still had to play. And then when Patricia kicked the ball and Kemba went to get it, Bullet snatched it clean from out his jaws; you’ve got to give him credit. So my dog turned to
Was talking last Friday to one of my Hartford writing students — a hardcore dog lover who also happens to be a big-time fan of this blog. She knows pretty much all there is to know about the LA/XC series, my annual cross-country road trips from Westport to Los Angeles to bring Ricky (originally) and Kemba
Kemba and Ruckus spent the long Memorial Day weekend together at the beach in Montauk. The Tuesday after, our daughter-in-law Kelly told us, Ruckus refused to go to Biscuits & Bath, the doggy daycare center which was, heretofore, his favorite place on the planet. For the rest of the week, Greg added, he had to
Should Beagle Man be asking Steve the Breeder for his money back? I know, I know, this sounds pretty petty, especially coming from me, the dog Kemba replaced. But seriously — isn’t he supposed to be a Duck Tolling Retriever? Yeah, sure, the retrieving part, he’s awesome at that: If B-Man throws a tennis ball in the
Last Sunday morning, 8AM, Robby stumbled into our bedroom. “Here’s Kemba,” he announced, then quickly ducked back into his own room before I could react. It would have been nice if he’d let Kemba out to pee and given him his breakfast, instead of waking me, but that, I know he thinks, is above his
