Authors, Literary Dogs, and Artificial Intelligence
A beady-eyed burnt-orange sun crept over a smoky horizon, and it's hot-air balloon season in Colorado. Juxtaposition: A new day...
Totally Quanked and in Search of Our Own Personal Pickleball
Yes, it's a proper word. I didn't make it up, but I wish I had. Quanked is in the 1893...
Horsewoman, Has Your Neighborhood Gone to the Dogs?
I traipsed across Minnesota and North Dakota through factory farms and cemeteries this summer. Trying to link childhood memories with...
Falling in Love All Over Again for the First Time
Coming home, the washboard road is as close to a drumroll as we'll get. We are bleary-eyed and dog-tired. I...
The Cemetery of My People, Part Two
Road trips have a feeling of being unstuck anyway, but this trip to the land of my people was like...
Traveling to the Cemetery of My People, Part One
Mister is barking in a steady rhythm. His metronome bark. Consider it a warning siren. He knows. There is a...
Jolene’s Family Reunion Isn’t Just Fun and Games
Mister would like you to know that we had a record two naps in one day. We were staying at...
Jolene’s Nose, My Ears, and the Death of Embarrassment
May I brag? I have celebrated the death of embarrassment. It was a freedom I gained by competing horses. Horses...
The Dog Barn and Literary Lounge
Just a reminder, dear reader. I'm a horse trainer using all I know to raise a puppy. If your horse's...
We Don’t Recognize Jolene
Jolene says, hurry up, would ya? I am not dawdling. I'm getting my hearing aids, looking for my outside glasses...
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