I was so heartbroken over having to put down Kobi, my rescued Alaskan malamute mix, that I had to sell my car; though months had passed, it still smelled of him, which made me cry every morning.  My daughters thought I needed another dog.  To get them off my back, I threw down an insurmountable gauntlet: I’d get another dog, but only if it looked exactly like Kobi. Read more

I mentor older boys in the New York City foster care system. These are kids who’ve been in “the system” for a long time and who the system long ago gave up on trying to get them permanent homes or adoption. They usually live in abysmal group homes or with foster families that have no real interest in or connection with them. And they’re all about to “age-out” of the system, which means they’ll soon be on their own which, statistically, means most likely joining the ranks of the homeless. Read more

About two years ago, I adopted Zola, saving her from a kill shelter down in Nashville. She’s an Alaskan malamute, which means she’s a large (95 lbs), powerful, beautiful, regal-looking animal.  Initially, walking her, it entered my mind that she could be a chick-magnet, providing entrée to the world of dog owners, and an easy conversation starter with attractive female ones.  But I should have taken the hint from one of my early encounters  that my fellow dog owners might not be the group for me.  Read more