Ah, such a good day we had planned!  What a great adventure it would be!  A sunny Sunday with my Two men . . . son Greg, my grandson, Ryan, Greg’s dog, Ruckus, and Kemba — all of us heading off for a hike around Lake Mohegan.  Greg and Ryan (in his baby seat) in Greg’s SUV, me and the doggies in my Jeep Wrangler, their favorite ride. We park in the lot nearest the cascades.  I open the Jeep’s doors, and the two dogs bolt.  They’ve been here a zillion times,...

Well, it certainly took him long enough!  I cannot tell you how hard I’ve tried to get through to that goody-four-shoes!  Seriously, how many times do I have to listen to Beagle Man telling his dog park buddies, “Kemba’s not really food-obsessed.  At least not like Is this the face of a food thief? Ricky was.”  And what’s so terrible about being food-obsessed, anyway?  It’s not like I see the Beagle Man starving himself.  Anyhoo — I’ve been...

Demonstratin’ dog Carol had signed up both of us for last Saturday’s March For Our Lives, Manchester VT edition.  I told her I’d go — unless the skiing was too good to pass up.  I was joking.  I’d always intended to take part.  The gun violence issue was out of control.  You couldn’t stay on the sidelines for this one. What do we want?  Gun control!  When do we want it?  Now! The kid conducting the chant couldn’t have been more than 14, and he...

Pure comfort Nope, this is not a P.S. to last month’s post on those low-life service dog scammers.  This is about a real comfort dog.  He’s got no official vest, and he doesn’t have special dispensation to hang with me at bars or travel with me on planes.  But man, does this dog ever give me comfort! Last weekend Carol opted to stay back in WePo for reasons including, but not limited to, the spectre of driving up to Vermont and into the teeth of Winter Storm...

Kemba couldn’t wait for the actual birthday celebration at the conclusion of Carol’s Mahjong game last week.  Note, however, that he limited himself to the one neat, dainty bite.  Ricky the Beagle would, without question, have inhaled the whole thing. Both whole things.)

Kemba, Ricky (from his frame right above my desk), and I watch the Duck Tollers compete for Best in Breed yesterday at the Westminster Dog Show 🙂

So there we were, Matt and I, sitting in front of Jack’s Coffee in Amagansett, eating our egg-and-cheese, drinking our beverage.  Relaxing.  Not sure if this was last summer or the one before; doesn’t really matter.  A guy who Matt apparently knows starts talking to us.  He’s carrying in his arms a small dog wearing one of those “service” vests — so, of course, we ask the guy about it.  “Oh, he’s not really a service dog,” the guy...

Beagle Man and I have a joke about Mom.  We call her “Miss Useless.”  Here’s why.  Let’s say I bring a tennis ball to Beagle Man.  Will he throw it?  Of course!  Robby?  Yes.  Greg?  Yes.  Matt?  Yes.  But Mom?  Never.  I’ll drop the ball right in her lap while she’s reading — and she’ll just brush it aside, without even looking at me. Me and Mom. No Beagle Man. “She’s useless,” Beagle Man will say as he comes over to pick...

My wingman If you can remember back to when your kids were little, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.  Or if you have a dog you treat like a little kid, you’ll also know what I’m talking about.  Kemba had a stomach bug last week.  He didn’t look happy. And I felt miserable. Dogs with medical difficulties are not new to me.  Yes, of course I’m referring to Ricky the Beagle, my first dog, may he rest in peace.  Ricky, you might remember,...

Matt’s 36.  Greg is 33.  Robby’s 24.  So you’d think my days of dealing with sibling rivalry were history. Then came Kemba.  And Baby Ryan. Technically, they’re not siblings.  (Okay, technically they’re not even the same species.)  But now that Greg and Kelly have moved up from NYC to WePo, Kemba and Ryan spend lots of time on the same turf.  And things, for awhile, had started to get just a lit-tle bit hairy. Keeping the peace between dogs and baby...