When we were growing up, my father told us the story of the Optimist and the Pessimist – the Maine farm boy version. I can see my father’s tall-drink-of-water frame sitting in the captain’s chair at the head of the dining room table, his large hands taking his...
“Freya, Heathcliff, are you ready?” Keith and I ask our dogs, praising them when they sit. “Wait. Look at me,” we say with words, hand signals and further praise while putting food dishes on the floor in front of them. “Ok, have some.” During dinner, Heathcliff and...
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