Henry is having a midlife crisis. There’s no mistaking it.
For starters, he’s reverted to his puppy years, no doubt remembering the months he spent in a child care center where he’d see infants using pacifiers and started using them, too. Here he is again, a feeble attempt to relive his youth. Continue reading →
Oliver Twist hates taking baths, but he loves getting soaked. Let me explain.
Put him in a tub, as I do every so often, and he hates it. He gets all squirmy as he tries desperately to climb out of the tub. Trust me, I know this because I have the claw marks on my arms as proof. Continue reading →
She’s a Canadian Bernedoodle, recently adopted by my dear, old friend, Mary Pat.
I met Mary Pat years ago when we were colleagues working in the public broadcasting system, only in different states. We’d talk on the phone from time to time, and see each other every year at conferences. She was a hoot to hang out with. Make that a hoot and a half. Continue reading →