How To Be A Dog

Hello my favourite dog lovers, book lovers, and lovers of being outside. I have a secret. Well, it isn’t a secret anymore because I’m saying it out loud now. Which feels good (and scary) because up until now it’s just been rattling around in my brain and shared with friends and with any dog who would listen.

When I was a scrawny little teenager and I was weird and all my friends let me be weird I was really into drawing and painting and art in general. Though I didn’t know much about it. I guess it was the thing I did because I was stuck at home with my asthma inhaler. I never really called it art, either. I didn’t have a name for it, I just did things.

How a school in Nebraska reminded me what it means to be rich. Hey, if you’re struggling, you’re not alone. You can find local help at findahelpline.com, or you can reach out to me directly. I mean it. It was March, and an envelope the size of a book sat next to me in my truck on a cold and wet morning. I was on my way to the gym, my daily ritual which kept me breathing while a deep depression chased me through the gloomy months of winter. That depression had a lot of layers.

Reminder! You could win this tote filled with goodies over on my Patreon. My friend Sabrina sent me a message about her Marnie. She tells me that it’s time. That it’s her last few days. She also tells me that she’s been talking with The Dodo because Marnie is the world’s oldest living basset hound. She’s almost 18! A week went by and I hadn’t heard from her, so I checked in.

I’ve traveled with my dog in a fully-loaded Sprinter van, in a ‘77 Westfalia bus, in a tiny Fiat 500, in a converted 4Runner, and under the belly of a transatlantic flight to Europe. I’ve done it solo, with one dog, with four dogs, with a partner and her 90-pound shepherd crammed into a tiny space. People ask me all the time which setup is best. And really, it depends on you. But after a decade of trying nearly every version, I’ve got a few things to say.

Hi! I wanted to share with you a thing I’ve been working on. Another Substack born from my men’s group called Really Good Friends (that’s the name of the Substack and also the name of my men’s group). I just shared a story over there called How to Be a Man. It’s tongue-in-cheek. Not too serious. But instrospective nonetheless and gives a good idea on what this other Substack is all about. Here’s part of that article: I’m in a men’s group. There’s six of us.

What’s the most memorable dog name you’ve heard? Imagine a dog with a name so poetic, so magical, that one chance encounter will have this name glued to your hippocampus. Here’s a little story about one that I met. The thick August air reassured us that we didn’t have to rush to find a place to sleep, even with the dimming sky.

I went viral in the 2010s (saying that like it was a different era because it feels like it). My followers grew and grew by the tens of thousands every day. I remember refreshing my notifications every half second to see a list of new usernames taller than my screen. I think some of you have been around since then, which is wild. You feel like extended family I’ve never met. This was before it was okay to call yourself an influencer or a content creator.

There was a convenience store down the hill from my house growing up called Fergie’s Confectionery. I’d rent movies on VHS. I’d buy candy by the bag full. I’d peek inconspicuously at the top row of magazines. My friends and I would ride our bikes and hang out in front of the store in the summer until we got in trouble. The best thing about going to Fergie’s, however, was getting a loot bag.

Full disclosure: this article is two things. One, it’s a reminder for you and for myself that sometimes, acting on an idea is what allows the space for the pieces to fall into place. Two, this article contains sponsored content and affiliate links, and it’s a good one, I promise. A little heartbreak and an encroaching gloomy winter season is enough to make any man jump in his truck and drive across the country. That’s the reality that set in for me around October of last year. I needed a trip.