Pickering was, simply, there for me, a warm sympathetic weight on my thigh, the canine version of a murmuring, back-patting listener.
Tag Archives | Confessions of a Lab Lady
“Hello, I Love You”
I think of Milly racing up and down her steep stairs and of Pickering nesting between my ribs. I think about the long moment that Daisy will look at me before she takes it in that I’ve come back after a week and the moment she decides to become a turban. I keep playing over those greetings until sleep comes.
Wubba Wander You
The Chuck-it balls I use aren’t cheap so I keep a running tally of where they are in the park. When a ball-thief gets hold of one, I have two options. The first is to ask the owner for help. If the owner tries to get the ball back and can’t, I laugh, sympathize, shrug my shoulders and get on with my life.
Righteous Indignation
If you want to learn about people, get a dog. If you want to know the depths of people, become a walker.
Travels with Daisy, Part II
We wrestled through four oatmeal cookies, a complete rearrangement of the furniture, two puncture wounds, numerous scrapes and bruises that were wonderfully livid after my shower the next morning, a stream of barking and my tears, pleading and blood for 75 minutes. I figured, by the time the clerk informed me the plane would be closing its doors in ten minutes, that I’d done ten 75-pound lifts.
Travels with Daisy – Part I
When my brother stuffed Daisy into the crate at the airport, he turned to me and said, “You know, you don’t have to keep this dog.” His words sealed my pact with the little pagan, although everyone on the plane had to listen to her barking in the hold for the Twin Cities – La Guardia leg of the trip.
Air Dog
I bought my dog, Daisy, while I was on a trip and we’ve been flying ever since. Because so many people ask how I manage to travel with her, I’m sharing here what I’ve learned over the years.
Winter Wonders
There is nothing more pathetic than a dog that has walked through salt. It sits, lifts its paws and looks up in excruciating pain until its walker can get a handful of pure snow and rub the paws clean.
Cash Is Good
It was with some trepidation that I entered into the space of work styles for a completely unscientific sampling of the taboo topic of what we like getting from our clients at the end of the year.
A Time to Weep, and a Time to Laugh; A Time to Mourn, and a Time to Dance
We call him “Mr. Happy”.
A terrible misfortune has befallen his humans in the last few weeks so Daisy and I are taking care of the dog. “My heart goes out to you,” I emailed them. “Words fail me.”
Given the impotence their friends and family are feeling, I feel lucky to have the dog.
Nabe Chatter