It’s been a minute (as the cool kids say) since I wrote The House of Dog, my recap of the first year with a vizsla. Since then, things have calmed down with Rose, but there are still plenty of stories to share.
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True story.
Recently at a coffee shop with three early twenty baristas behind the counter, each wearing a vintage rock & roll t-shirt—the Rolling Stones, Nirvana, and Led Zeppelin.
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As a boy, I owned a red dog. Red, I called him.
Creative? Not really, but the name was direct and to the heart of things.
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