Dogs

Eddie and Jim racing down the hallway to our apartment after a walk. Eddie always won and got his cookie first

We met Bob Slobbers at an adoption fair held in a pet store a few miles from our house. The dogs sat in a semi-circle, almost like a therapy group, in front of their individual crates. Billy and I split up, wandering around and reading the little biographies taped to each one. I found a scruffy mutt that seemed pretty cute. I turned to find Billy so I could show him and saw him sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a hefty black Lab mix. They were locked in a stare-do

I’m not sure Stephen and I even liked each other very much when we first met. My great friend Robyn Zeiger, who’s a brilliant therapist and specializes in pet loss, told me that it’s best not to get the same breed, gender, or color as my Bob Slobbers, the smartest most intuitive dog in the world. Bob was a mighty eighty-plus pounds of black lab mix, a proud boy whose strength held me together when we both lost Billy. Two years later when I was in a position to get another com

When I landed In NYC mid-afternoon yesterday, I listened to the dire voicemail from the vet, so when the car dropped me off at the vet, I was on the people-mover forcing me toward something bad, real bad. The vet’s receptionist, instant sad eyes when I told her who I was, brought me into a room. The doc followed behind her wearing the same mask of regret and concern. She explained that Eddie was bleeding internally and in extreme pain. And then she carried my boy in along wit