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Three months after his aging daughter Rhonda gave him a one-year-old poodle-Lab-golden-retriever mix to keep as a pet, Felder came to believe that the dog — who looked at him mournfully whenever he went to the bathroom and waited for him by the door, as still as a statue, until he came out — was in fact none other than the reincarnation of his sister, Esther, may her name be a blessing.
By Jennifer Anne MosesOctober 2015I’m looking at today’s impossibly long to-do list. To accomplish everything on it will take more than twenty-four hours. To not accomplish everything will leave me ill-prepared to leave town tomorrow.
By Sy SafranskyApril 2015Being left at a gas station, staying at a Howard Johnson’s, watching the sun rise over the glistening Himalayas
By Our ReadersJanuary 2015The summer of my mother’s illness, / a season so hot and dry it might / have erupted in flames, we discovered / the dog liked television.
By Faith ShearinDecember 2014I knew early on that Max was special. She was a taut-bodied pit-bull mix but without the meanness, even in appearance, that her breed is known for. She must have been the kind of dog who rolls over as soon as she sees you so you can pet her belly, like in the photograph on your flier.
By K.C. WolfeOctober 2014Dear Young Artist:
Thank you for your attempt to draw a tree. We appreciate your efforts, especially the way you sat patiently on the sidewalk, gazing at that tree for an hour before setting pen to paper, and the many quick strokes of charcoal you executed with enthusiasm. But your smudges look nothing like a tree.
A bowl of kibble, Christmas dinner, exotic spaghetti
By Our ReadersNovember 2013Late-afternoon light floods the darkening sunroom. / Looking out the window, not sad, not happy, I / and the ghost of my old dog breathe in, breathe out
By Mark Smith-SotoOctober 2013September 2013If an animal does something, we call it instinct; if we do the same thing for the same reason, we call it intelligence.
Will Cuppy
I question the underlying assumption that one does a cat a favor by killing him . . . oh, sorry . . . I mean “putting him to sleep.” Turn to backward countries that don’t have Humane Societies for a simple alternative. In Tangier stray cats fend for themselves.
By William S. BurroughsSeptember 2013Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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