Series: At sixty-eight years old, I took in Major, an eight-year-old retired arson hound left homeless after the county disbanded his unit.

The civic center devolved into pandemonium. Shouts, accusations, the frantic clicking of cameras from local news crews that had materialized from nowhere. My mother’s words, [more…]

Two years later, the air was still cold, still damp, in the drafty, tiny rental cottage on the county line. My retirement savings, once substantial [more…]