I can still smell the faint, sweet scent of puppy breath and damp hay from the morning I first held a tiny Golden Retriever in [Read More…]
The other morning, I was out in the garden trying to arrange some smooth river stones into the shape of a sleeping tabby—I’ve named this [Read More…]
I remember sitting on my porch last autumn, clutching a lukewarm mug of tea and watching the sunset, feeling that heavy, hollow ache that comes [Read More…]
The other morning, I was out in the garden trying to arrange some dried oak leaves into the shape of a sleeping tabby—I’ve named this [Read More…]
I was sitting on my porch the other morning, watching a particularly stubborn tabby—whom I’ve named after the legendary veterinarian Louis Pasteur—try to hunt a [Read More…]
I was sitting on my porch this morning, watching a stray tabby—whom I’ve affectionately named Louis Pasteur after the great microbiologist—stalk a butterfly through the [Read More…]
I was sitting on the floor of my sunroom yesterday, trying to arrange some smooth river stones into the shape of a sleeping tabby, when [Read More…]
I was sitting on the back porch this morning, nursing a lukewarm coffee and watching a heavy gray mist roll over the pasture, when Barnaby—the [Read More…]
The other afternoon, I was out in the garden trying to arrange some flat river stones into the shape of a sleeping tabby—a little tribute [Read More…]
I was sitting on the porch yesterday, watching a particularly stubborn tabby I’ve named Louis Pasteur try to communicate with a butterfly, when it hit [Read More…]
