My dog, Finnegan, has a digestive system with strong opinions. Too much rich food? Protest. A new treat? Suspicious silence. The wrong brand of kibble?…
It was a Sunday evening. The rain was coming down in sheets. My dog, Juniper, had already destroyed a squeaky toy, rearranged the couch cushions,…
My dog, Finnegan, has never met a texture he didn’t want to investigate. Crunchy? Yes. Chewy? Absolutely. Soft? Definitely. But jiggly? That was uncharted territory.…
It was the week after Thanksgiving. My dog, Juniper, had somehow gotten into the trash—don’t ask me how, she’s part Houdini. For three days, her…
My dog, Finnegan, has a sworn enemy. It’s not the mailman. It’s not the vacuum cleaner. It’s broccoli. Every time a floret falls on the…
My dog, Juniper, has many talents. She can catch a treat mid-air. She can open a cabinet with her nose. She can ignore me completely…
It was July. The kind of July where the pavement sizzles and the air conditioner runs until it begs for mercy. My dog, Finnegan, had…
It was 10:47 PM on a Tuesday. I had worked late, eaten cold pasta over the sink, and just wanted to collapse. My dog, Juniper,…
It was a lazy Sunday. Rain tapping the windows. Coffee brewing. My dog, Finnegan, was doing his best impression of a rug—flat on his back,…
My dog, Juniper, is not a picky eater. She has eaten a napkin. She has eaten a sock (we don’t talk about that vet bill).…