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In the distance, and above the noise of the air conditioner, I hear a faint voice. “Harow… Harow…” It’s my alarm clock talking to me. Her name is Scarlett. Yes, my alarm clock has a name. I try to hit the snooze button, knowing that this feature hasn’t worked in years. “Not yet, Scarlett.” I slowly open one eye to scope out the landscape. The digital clock on my nightst

“Practice makes perfect.” No it doesn’t. “It gets easier with time.” No it doesn’t. “Time heals all wounds.” No it doesn’t. I’ve tried this “exercise” six times before and I still wake up sore as hell. I’m not getting any better at this. In fact, I think I’m actually getting worse. And I’m certainly not looking forward to doing

The Bronx ain’t a good place to be, especially if you don’t know how to survive on the streets. Everything about the streets scared me: the noises, the smells, and the people. Yet, there I was – homeless, hungry, and in a constant state of terror. An Animal Control officer cornered me. His body language screamed, “Don’t trust me.” I trusted no one! I sent him all the calming signal

Meet Rooney. She is a female Great Dane, who lacks confidence.  Her insecurity has led to frequent panic attacks and frightening episodes of aggression around her family. A large dog with high anxiety is like mixing oil and water. It’s messy! I am not a dog “whisperer.” I don’t have a television show, and I don’t have a syndicated column that I write. I have never spoken to thousands of adoring fans on a nationwide t

Cousteau was on my lap, like a remora is to a shark – always attached. He’s been that way for 15 years. On this particular morning, he jarred himself out of a dead sleep with his typical and agonizing announcement that he is going to throw up. “Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah!” “Oh! C’mon Cousteau. I just got comfortable.” All six dogs came scurrying into the living room as though the

As I exited the kennel, with Sadie by my side, our Office Manager, Jan,  said, “Peter, that story you wrote about Sadie the other day still cracks me up.” I jokingly replied, “You know, I’ve got a bit of writer’s block. I need something to happen so I can write another story.” Sadie was doing wonderful in all her obedience exercises, on-leash. I wanted to give her a little freedom

A stiff wind blew the light and fluffy snow into my face. It was abrasive like a luffa sponge. When I was a child, my mother used to slather Vaseline on my face when I would go on a day-long sledding adventure. Today, a scarf would have sufficed. Sadie, a two-year old Corgi/Collie mix walked in a perfect heel position as we trudged along through the freshly fallen snow of Storm Hercules. The “feels like”

For months, I’ve been struggling with self confidence as a writer. Am I good enough? Who reads or cares about what I have to say anyway? Do my words make a difference to anyone? As fate, or more correctly, God’s grace would have it, I changed my mind today. Earlier today, I let our dogs outside. They became fixated on a big green pick-up truck that was stopped in the middle of our dead-end street. A young

My task: Weigh Leroy, the chocolate lab. Sounds easy enough right? Insert an inconvenience: The scale is on the second floor. I put a leash on Leroy, and he respectfully walked with me towards the stairs. You’re a nice dog. You don’t pull too much on the leash. As I began to climb the stairs I felt the leash became taut behind me. I tried to continue but Leroy wasn’t following. Hmm. Is he being a br

Imagine that you play the position of shortstop for a baseball team. You have played the position for seven years. You are an athlete. You have a strong skill set that complements your abundance of talent. All of a sudden, you are asked to switch positions. You now have to play the position of second base. You tell yourself, “No problem.” Suddenly, reality hits you. You find yourself fumbling with your fo