And the winner is . . . I’d gone to see The Artist (run-away winner at the Academy Awards yesterday) last month with a big chip on my shoulder.  Carol and I usually agree on which movies we choose, but not this time.  I have a few rules, and she knows them:  No animated films.  No movies with subtitles.  Okay, so Ricky before Uggie's big moment maybe I didn’t have a rule against silent films — but if I’d ever thought the situation might arise, I certainly...

For me, some of the best parts of Lin-sanity, now well into its third week (I know, I know — doesn’t it seem like we’ve never not known about J-Lin?), are the little things.  Like last night’s exchange between Lin and Kris Humphries when they bumped into each other in the tunnel between locker rooms after the Nets whupped my Knicks at the Garden.  Lin told Humphries, known to some as the Nets power forward and to all as the dude Kim Kardashian dumped after...

Better than the beagles? Really? Cinders, the wire-haired dachshund, wins Best in Group for the hounds at Westminster?  Are you kidding me?  And the two beagles don’t even finish in the money?  Did the judge have her eyes open?  How could she possibly resist that proud, fluffy flag of a tail on Buddy, Buddy, with tail at full mast the 13-inch beagle from Vista, CA?  Or the jaunty, ear-flopping stride of Corbin, the Ricky reacts to beagle snub at Westminster 15-inch beagle...

Seriously, can there be a brain in there? Spotted a lot of creatures while we were down in FLA last week.  Ricky wasn’t with us on the trip, so no photos of him in this post.  (Robby, feel free to stop reading now.) At least they pose for you From the terrace of our room on Captiva we Can you see the dolphin? Carol couldn't either could see dolphins leaping.  At least I could see them.  I kept screaming out for Carol to “Look!” — but each time she did,...

Homer the Beagle: Did Casey get him fired? You name it, it’s my fault.  In my house I get blamed for everything sports-related.  Robby didn’t play high school lacrosse?  My fault for raising him to be a baseball player.  None of the boys get to root for Eli and the Giants in two weeks against the hated Pats?  My fault for being a Jets fan.  The whole family saddled with a lifetime of misery rooting for the Mets?  My fault again — though I blame this one on my own...

Could . . . Romeo and Juliet. Antony and Cleopatra. Superman and Lois Lane. Bogart and Bacall. Ricky and Nena. It might not have quite the same ring, but you should see the two of this . . . them.  Nena, a chihuahua belonging to Luz’s niece, is a frequent overnight guest at Luz’s apartment, so Ricky and Nena have spent a lot of time together.  And, well, I guess it’s chemistry. Though I love all dogs, Nena and I have never really hit it off.  In all these years she...

Coneheads then . . . Of course you remember the Coneheads, from the planet Remulak.  Dan Aykroyd as Beldar.  Jane Curtin as Prymaat.  Laraine Newman as their daughter, Connie.  Chugging entire six-packs of beer at once.  Inhaling packages of cigarettes.  Yapping about “consumables” and . . . Conehead now “parental units” in their synthy, nasal monotone.  Rubbing their cones together as a sign of affection.  Insisting they come “from France.” ...

Toby We were on our way back to our friends Jeff and Joan’s house in Alexandria, Boo Virginia, after a rousing celebration of our anniversary at Geranio, an Italian restaurant in Old Town.  Pulling into their driveway, we could see Toby, their Bichon, waiting in the bay window of the living room.  “Aww,” Jeff said, “look how excited he is to see us.”  From his tone, proud and reverent, he might have been watching his first baby roll over for the first...

On June 12, right after I wrote a blog post about two beagles I run into frequently down at Southport Harbor (“Is It Maggie and Dutch?”), I got called on the carpet via an e-mail from Robby: Not a good post at all.  Not helped by the fact that there’s no Ricky picture — that’s the best freaking part fcol [for crying out loud] Earlier this month I did an entry on the passing of two dogs that belonged to friends of mine, in which I ran photos of the dear...

Ricky and his patron saint (Halo courtesy of Carole Fass. What, do you think I know how to do that kind of thing?? Anyone who enters our playroom via the garage between 1 and 2:30 PM will all but trip over an eager, expectant, tail-wagging, door-blocking beagle who has been waiting steadfastly on that very spot for hours.  If that anyone is me, or Carol, or Matt, or Greg, the tail will gradually slow down, disappointment will momentarily cloud the dog’s handsome...