My first journey headed south. I was ten weeks old. My humans, R and H, had one of their brilliant ideas: let's drive to Andalusia. Two thousand kilometers on R's lap in a sports car. Holding my pee was still a work in progress. Especially on bumpy roads. And in Madrid. The warm feeling I gave her didn't last long.

H is going potty, I tell you. With some luck he’ll hold out a couple more years, until I catch up. Then we can get lost together within two blocks of home, arguing about which lamppost we’ve already peed against. People on the terraces will watch with the kind of compassion…

I made it. It took me just over six years to make it to the front row. To first class. The sharp end. Six years of my best behavior before my humans—forget the hooman doggolingo nonsense; I converse in correct multisyllabic words and the occasional alliteration, words as sharp as…

Betrayal. Pure and simple. Disruption at its worst. My well-organized canine life has been uprooted. On account of my human family. Can you imagine? I give them my unconditional love, loyalty, and attention, and what do I get back? A sister!

I think that Babette has a crush on me. I've known her since she was a pup. Now she's grown up. It's pretty obvious. Being a Dachshund, she wasn't exactly at the front of the queue when the innuendos were distributed. She's a tad overweight too. When…

I've been thinking again. You may have your doubts about the intellectual capacities of canines like me. But keep in mind that we observe you humans every moment of the day. Sharply. So hear me out. You humans are peculiar creatures. You think of …

It took longer than I had expected; Manhattan needed nearly three weeks to fully recognize my cachet. Doormen have a sixth sense for incognito celebs like me. They were the first to notice, even when I squinted in the morning sun because the gold stripes on the sleeves of…