"Life... is a series of dogs," George Carlin’s hippy-dippy take on the measure of existence never failed to bring a smile to my day; I would think back on all the dogs in my own life and realize Carlin was correct: from Buttons (my dad’s Boston Terrier) to Blondie and Iodine, Sybil – given to me as a Christmas present by Melody in college and whom later learned to call my mother ‘mom’ - Sybil, not Melody - and that dog I found in the gutter on a snowy Saturday morning outside a panc...


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