Friday Sophie and I spent the day with Dara. Before Sophie even saw Dara’s dog, Zoey, she kept saying “dog,” “dog,” “dog” every time Zoey would bark. Sophie loved playing fetch with Zoey. Zoey would bring the ball to Sophie and wait ever so patiently for Sophie to “throw” it. Although Sophie’s throws were erratic in direction, they were throws nonetheless. And Sophie would laugh and laugh and laugh.

“Oh, what is the matter with poor Puggy-Wug? Pet him and kiss him and give him a hug. Run and fetch him a suitable drug. Wrap him up tenderly all in a rug. That is the way to cure Puggy-Wug.” —Winston Churchill, on his daughter Mary’s pet pug