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Culture: Stories & Lit
Lucky and Frenchy: Dogs as Healers
Lucky - Dogs as healers
Their bedraggled faces peered at me from the adoption website Petfinder.com. Lucky Dog, a 3-year-old Bichon Frise, and French Fry, a 2-yearold Bichon/Poodle mix, had been rescued from a puppy mill that kept dogs under appalling conditions and bred them until they died. Lucky looked like a tough guy and the protector of Frenchy, his pitiful sidekick. Together, they called to mind woeful street...
Culture: Stories & Lit
A Dog’s Work Is Never Done
Searching for mountain lions.
A Dog
Jadzia’s barks wake us in the dead of night. Not happy ones or play ones, but her all-business barks. I leap from bed thinking a bear must be prowling outside. The trailer’s screens can’t keep out mosquitoes, much less a grizzly. But Jadzia is not looking out a window. Instead, I find her in the middle of the gear room, barking at the closet door. “What’s your problem?” She ignores me. Hey,...
Culture: Stories & Lit
Chasing Duque
Spirit Dog Leads to Hope in Costa Rica.
Patricia Artimana and two of the many dogs she shelters at Asociation Arca de No
In the year 2000, I lived in Costa Rica for six months and fell in love with the dogs. There were many visitors to the farm during my stay there, and everyone knew about me and my love for Duque, who, like most dogs in Central America, didn’t really belong to anyone. Dogs don’t last long in Costa Rica, particularly in the countryside, where, even if they are owned, they are allowed to run free,...
Culture: Stories & Lit
A Healing Heart
Lab with a wise old soul helps family navigate loss.
Lab with a wise old soul
There was little discussion of who would keep Tag, my brother’s young black Labrador Retriever, after John’s death. Tag was a living connection to John, and though a grief greater than my own was unfathomable, I knew my mother needed him most. She had lost her broad-shouldered, broad-grinned son. She needed Tag, if only to curl up with when death’s demons haunted. Tag and my mother mourned...
Culture: Stories & Lit
Brave and Noble is the Preschool Dog
Dog
  I never had a dog. I grew up in a cat household, with a mother who disliked dogs for their digging and mess and noise. I can’t blame her, as we were five kids who had lizards, hamsters, parakeets, fish, and always, two or three cats.   But I wanted a dog so badly! I wanted a red Cocker Spaniel like Rusty, the fictional dog featured in novels I read again and again. I dreamed of a brave dog like...
Culture: Stories & Lit
Hot Dog
Doing Double Duty as a Therapy Dog
Dog in highchair
The day I brought my puppy home to Manhattan, a giant article appeared in The New York Times reducing him to a fashion accessory. Headline news: Boston Terriers, dogs for the hipper-than-thou. But I didn’t get my little guy to lift my social status. I got him to lift my father’s spirits—and add quality to the time he had left. A note to my husband Geoff and me lay on the nightstand in our spare...
Culture: Stories & Lit
Becky Has Two Daddies
But which one does she really prefer?
Becky, black lab
It’s become an early-Sunday-morning ritual. I stumble out of bed, throw on a ratty robe and wait for my apartment buzzer to go off. It’s Bill, Becky’s other dad, come to take her for a seven-mile hike up into the wilderness trails of the Pacific Palisades and Malibu. Becky is my two-year-old black Lab. Bill, a steel-grey, captain-ofindustry type, is the capable, commanding and alpha dad who...
Culture: Stories & Lit
Summer Magic
Ah, Summertime! Nothing like it for this teacher. No students to teach, papers to grade or meetings to attend. My family’s at Six Flags, and since I get motion sickness, I wrote myself a note, excusing me from it. The handwriting was pretty good, so it worked. I’m not thinking of vacuuming the rug or emptying the dishwasher or starting that last load of whites. Nope. Just don’t feel like it. I...
Culture: Stories & Lit
Why I Write About Dogs
Woman hiking with dog
I can't throw. As a child, I was spared the humiliation of never being picked for either team in baseball by my friend Debbie, a prodigy with ball and bat who always chose me. She was a sort of one-person Red Sox Dream Team. Because of Debbie and in spite of me, our team always won, which is to say that hers did. Because I love dogs, I have never inflicted myself on a Golden Retriever or a Lab....
Culture: Stories & Lit
Ramona Guitar Wolf Jackson
Lending a Hound a helping hand.
Old photograph of man
It was last summer when I found her. I was going to get a coffee at this place on Bull Street right next to a dog park. The heat had come already, but it wasn’t yet the wet, suffocating, thick, thick burning of late July and August. I’d only experienced one summer in the South and I’d quickly learned that it was something you survived— a test of endurance and stamina. Just walking from my...

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