Posts by Hank

Go, Dog. Go!, the kids book by P.D. Eastman, is, and has long been, a Herman family favorite.  I’ve read that book to my three sons, and now all my grandsons, at least 9,000 times: . . . look where those dogs are going!  To the tree! To the tree! Up the tree! Up the tree! Up they go to t…

This is Kemba during the Jets game yesterday saying, “Can we please do something?!” It was Saturday, September 25 — first full day back in town after spending the summer out in Montauk. Kemba, still in thrall to his beach addiction, dragged me down Soundview (yes, he had me on a le…

Ricky was my co-pilot on the first 3 of my 5 cross-country road trips. (Here we are in San Fran in 2011) Last weekend we hosted Carol’s book group out here in Montauk. While Kemba was the only dog present (he liked, did not love, Moonglow by Michael Chabon; complained that the only pet who…

Who’s this handsome dude named for? Kemba. KEM-ba. K-E-M-B-A. Seriously — is that so hard? Robby named him. For Kemba Walker, of course — the ex-UConn star who is now, I’m thrilled to say, a member of the New York Knicks. It was Robby who also named Ricky the Bea…

To honor Kemba on this, his 7th birthday, here’s a poem celebrating his life on the beach. The verses that follow should be recited to the rhythm and meter of Ernest Lawrence Thayer’s “Casey at the Bat.” It’s my favorite poem. It’s also the only poem I know. Happy Birthday, Kemba…

A video my oldest son Matt sent me of his 16-month-old son, Cole, eating a stick, reminded me — for maybe the thousandth time — how similar little kids are to dogs.  And I’m not the only one who’s made this observation.  My middle son Greg, who has three little boys (ages 4, 2, and one month) and…

We can hear him going at it, even though we’re in the kitchen.  Scratch-scratch-scratch-scratch!  That’s Kemba, scuffing at the large, flat cushion on the living room couch, as if he were in the dog park, pawing dirt or grass.  Next, he’ll frantically circle that same cushion (you’ve seen dogs cha…

In my next life, I want to be a dog living near the beach in Santa Monica.  Quite the sweet deal they have going there. Their ubiquity, their visibility (and the assumption that they belong!) at restaurants and bars, their generally cushy lifestyle, and the sheer number of them, first made an impr…

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…

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:  “Tha…