The Protection Racket

I wander into the bedroom and find Maisie, as per usual, curled up in a small, compact ball, her chin on the heap that is my standard t-shirt and cargo shorts, carelessly thrown there after our morning walk. Her sumptuous tail is wrapped around her, its tip grazing her nose. When she sees me, her …

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It’s Not You, It’s Me.

A few weeks ago, when I was having a particularly rough morning all on my own (without any help from Maisie) we encountered another dog on our morning walk. We were on a section of the trail that stretches long and straight, with a decent site line, and I could see the dog from pretty …

What Maisie Knows

It was her eyes that first pulled me in, Maisie’s big, searching, liquid gold, Egyptian princess, smoky, kohl-lined eyes. She looked up at me, looked straight into my broken heart and held on tight, didn’t let go. She still hasn’t. She has a fantastic, cascading tail; she has disheveled, raggedy ears that look like an …