The great last days of Barnaby

Super-sad spoiler alert: My dog died. It sucked.


Thanksgiving as chronicled by dog

Thanksgiving Day, as chronicled by dog. 8:47am: Overjoyed at the prospect of your owner’s consciousness, you accidentally awaken her by repeatedly whacking her with your wagging tail. 9:52am: One human peels a couple of Clementine oranges, and decides it would be funny to put the stickers on your head. You spend a huge chunk of …

Why Barnaby needs the blessing

Disclaimer: EVERYTHING IS FINE. You're about to read about one of Barnaby's less-intelligent moments, and it's important to know going in that he is just fine. He is his normal, happy, healthy self. That said, if stories about dogs encountering hurts upset you, then you should NOT read the following post. Really. It will just upset you, and for no good reason, because as I wrote before, BARNABY IS FINE.

Thunderstorm Cuddles

My dog is no chicken.  Um.  I mean, not simply because he's a dog, not a chicken.  I'm trying to say that he's bombproof when it comes to loud noises.   He doesn't react to thunder, fireworks, or cannon blasts. Raised alongside a series of increasingly neurotic rescue dogs at home who would promptly freak …