Max wasn’t sure about his first holiday. In spite of the fact that we were up at five, he missed his morning walk. Bewildered, he watched us load the car, after which we all piled in and set off for
Episode Sixteen: Max goes on holiday!


Max wasn’t sure about his first holiday. In spite of the fact that we were up at five, he missed his morning walk. Bewildered, he watched us load the car, after which we all piled in and set off for

In early July, Max had a very social day: first a visit to Dr. Zinger to get heartworm pills; and then to the SPCA to meet Carson Wilson, who was head of the Burnaby shelter at the time. Carson liked

Max’s behavior didn’t improve over the next few weeks, so I was very glad I had arranged an assessment at the SPCA. He was showing more dominance all the time, whining if he had to wait for his walk, and

Walking with Edna was not only fun, it was also a wonderful education in pack behavior. Although the base group on these walks consisted of Edna, Brandy, Max and me, it was often augmented by other humans and pets. On

Looking back on Max’s early months in our household, I often wonder that he turned out as well as he did. Some of those early diary entries sound like utter bedlam. April was particularly fraught, though the chaos was understandable,

When we were young, my brother and I read Arthur Ransome’s Swallows and Amazons and yearned to be like the adventurous children in the novel. However, as Londoners, our boating excursions were restricted to whatever was available during our annual

Spring break brought Max’s first experience of school holidays. He enjoyed it; I did not. The first day, I came home from grocery shopping to find a mob of little girls roaring around the garden with Max in hot pursuit.

St. Luke’s Players in Victoria is the most recent company to stage my play, Casting for Murder, and the production team graciously invited me to come over to see the final performance and be the guest of honour at a

When our daughters, Caroline and Katie, were four and one respectively, my mother gave me a diary for Christmas. With the gift came the instruction: “You have to write down all the funny things that the children say. Otherwise, you’ll
Johnny Duncan, known in the Vancouver theatre world as Mr. Metro, has always wanted to direct Sir Terence Rattigan’s wonderful classic drama, The Winslow Boy. Having waited for years for the opportunity, it has now come twice in a row.