The Right to Wear Powdered Wigs and Use Outhouses

The truth is, I’ve got nothing to blog about. The longer I’ve stayed away from blogging, the harder it’s been to get back into the groove. Not because I’ve been working on some important pursuit, like writing the Great American Novel. Sadly, that’s not why. Continue reading

Dog on a Bench Makes Like a Statue

So I went for a long walk with my dog, Oliver Twist. At 4 years of age, the ragamuffin has a lot more energy–and stamina–than Henry, the King Charles Cavalier who descends from royalty. Continue reading

Wracked with Guilt over Henry & Oliver

I don’t think I’m the only one who leaves home each morning to head for work, but could I be the only one who does so wracked with guilt thanks to my pets? Continue reading

Oliver–and Hank?

Nobody thinks I can write. Maybe it’s because I’m little. Hank calls me a pipsqueak, and I guess Hank should know. He’s my big bro and one day he’s going to be king of all of us. That’s what he tells me, anyway, and I believe him. Continue reading