Posts by Hank

Jumped out of the shower just in time to see The Man in Orange make yet one more preposterous, self- congratulatory speech — Straight Outta Fantasyland — before jetting out of Dodge.  A good start to the day!  (Later, listening on radio, I’d hear the Rev. Al Sharpton say, “Pettiness is now on a fl…

From time to time, circumstances force my hand and I have to leave Kemba with dog sitters.  This pains me, because I’m sure he can’t be totally happy when he’s not in my company.  My logic behind this belief?  Well, I know that I can’t be totally happy when I’m not in his company, and I assume th…

Last night, on the first night of Chanukah, Kemba got an orange-and-blue Chuckit Ultra Ball.  This is by far his favorite kind of toy.  He used to be content with regular tennis balls — he’d fetch them 24/7 — until he decided tennis balls grow on trees and were no longer a big deal.  These days on…

Heading out to dinner last Friday night.  I began scooping up my things — car keys, phone, reading glasses, mask — but I didn’t see my wallet in the drawer by the front door where I usually leave it. “Have you seen my wallet lying around?” I asked Carol.  She, of course, gave me the look.  The one…

“We interrupt this blog about dogs to bring you some breaking news:  The House Formerly Known as Camp Herman has been torn down . .” That’s how I started my mid-June post (“Glory Days”) about the demolition of the house my family lived in for over 30 years — from 1987 through 2018.  The bulk of t…

It was all quiet on the eastern front.  I’d been flinging the Green Ball into the ocean for Kemba to retrieve for a good 45 minutes now, and he was  happy to follow my command to “read and relax.”  I was comfortably leaning back in  my sand chair, book spread open on my lap, and my good boy had du…

On October 25, 2014, I spotted baby Kemba striding happily along with Steve the Breeder in the parking lot of a Homewood Suites motel in Scarborough, Maine, near Portland.  This was the rendezvous spot where I was to take possession of my 10-week-old Duck Toller puppy.  The last time I’d laid eyes…

My good, good boy is back after his summer tune-up at Camp Marlon.  I send him there from time to time so that Kemba’s A#1 trainer, Marlon, can re-install the good behaviors —with his loving care, patience, and expertise — that I spend the rest of the year undoing with my lax discipline, lack of…

We interrupt this blog about dogs to bring you some breaking news:  The House Formerly Known as Camp Herman has been torn down. Yes, the old white colonial on Devon Road, home to the Beagle Man and family for over 30 years — through June of 2018 —is no more.  Rather than get carried away with my o…

“Patient is a 70-year-old male” it said at the top of my doctor’s notes on the MyChart app.  And my first reaction — I swear! — was “Who the hell is he talking about??” Same thing with my dog.  He’s not getting any younger, either — but I still think of Kemba as a puppy.  From recent evidence, tho…