My social media fasts have been going well. For the most part, I don’t miss it, and I especially don’t miss wasting time scrolling, especially when I would get caught in loops of politics and injustice.
Lately, however, I’ve been checking social media more often.
On July 1, I received a text from a good friend:
You may recall that Frannie was my #1 Internet dog, whom I fell in love with in 2024, and whom I loved with my whole heart, even though I had never met her.
So when I received a text that Frannie was sick, I immediately opened Instagram to find out what was going on.
The news was not good, and it continued to not be good. But Annika, Annie’s rescuer and real-life angel, kept posting updates and sharing with us right up until the end.
Today Annika shared an “in loving memory of Frannie.”
.What I think most drew me to Frannie, aside from just how precious and cute she was, is that her story made me feel like there is good in the world.
It is so hard to love this much and this deeply, especially a dog I never even met. Yet I can’t imagine existing in a world where hope does not reach out to you in the most unexpected of places.
That’s what Frannie did for me. And for that I will be fur-ever grateful.
Good-bye, sweet girl. Thank you for these last 2.5 years of joy and inspiration.
Ten years ago, on January 20, 2016, I sat down next to a handsome stranger at the bar at Lou Malnatti’s Pizza on Jefferson Ave in Naperville, IL, instead of sitting with anyone in the writers’ group I had just met. Twenty-two days later, on February 12, 2016, we eloped at the courthouse in Nashville, where this handsome stranger lived. It’s now been 10 years, so for all those who bet against us, it’s time to pay up!
Last year, when I was telling some students this story after relationship expert and researcher Ty Tashiro presented in one of my upper-level psychology classes, a student asked me how I had known my future husband would be a good man. There were many things that night when I first met Heath that I was attracted to, but what I told the student was that it came down to three things: 1) He teared up when talking about his dog, Lana, who was had died from cancer a few years prior; 2) He had a curiosity for knowledge and read more books than anyone else I had ever met; 3) He didn’t enjoy his job but he was giving it 110% anyway.
Ten years later, Heath has shown me time and time again that I wasn’t wrong. Of course, there’s so much more to him than those three characteristics! So, without further ado, here’s my updated list of 10 specific things that I love about Heath:
When we walk around Waneka Lake together, he always heads to the Free Little Library to see what treasures he’ll find.
As a surprise for 2026, he made me a day-by-day calendar that features snapshots from our life together.
He believes in my writing so much that sometimes he calls me Stephanie King, and he also insists that when my books do get published, I have to get special edition embellished versions made just for him.
He wants to befriend a murder of crows, and he’s already picked out names for some of them, including Carl, Steve, and Hippocrates.
He bought us a bird bath for our backyard to make it more hospitable for wildlife.
He sat at the table the other day, watched some squirrels for about 10 minutes, and then declared, “Squirrels are hilarious.”
When I gave him the “Guess the Book Title” holiday game from my Romancing the Tropes book club holiday party, not only did he play the game once, but when he realized these were actual published books, he asked to play again so he could put more effort into it.*
When I went down with the flu in December, the day before my niece arrived for the holidays, Heath took the day that she arrived off from work, picked her up at the airport, and then spent the entire day with her in Boulder so I wouldn’t have to worry about them.
Even though I have not yet kept my promise of watching one violent movie a month with him (provided it’s during the afternoon and not evening), he doesn’t give me too hard a time about it.
This is an oldie, but goodie and has been on my list before: 10 years in, and no matter how many times I pick up a banana, say hello, and then hand it to Heath, he says hello and pretends to have a conversation with someone.
Happy Anniversary, Heath! I’m so glad we found each other.
February 7. 2016
*If anyone would like the answer key to this game, please let me know. Also, shout out to Vanessa in my book club who created it!
On November 24th, a bright light in my world darkened. That was the day my beloved golden-wise friend, Annie, breathed her last.
When I started typing this blog post, I originally wrote as the first sentence: On November 24th, a bright golden light in my world went out. Within seconds, I felt in my heart that it wasn’t true because Annie and her golden-wise ways will never truly be extinguished from my life. Even with my very active imagination, I cannot think of any circumstance in which I would ever forget our times romping in the woods together, her belly flops into the swimming pool, or her general otherworldliness that had me convinced she was a divine being wearing a dog costume so she could experience life on Earth.
I knew and loved Annie for over 6 years while I lived in Norfolk, CT, and that didn’t stop after we left in May 2023. We’ve taken hundreds of walks together in the Barbour Woods, one of my favorite places in the world. Annie’s joy of running wild in the woods served as the inspiration for the first young adult romcom I ever wrote, and my relationship with her and her human mom took me to Seattle, WA, in the summer of 2023, where I met Annie’s nephew, Arnold, and wrote a story about him for a middle-grade audience.
One of my favorite things about Annie is the little rhrr, rhrr, rhrr noises she made whenever anyone she loved visited her house (which was pretty much anyone she knew). She would lean into you, wagging the entire backside of her body, and rhrr away, mostly because she was happy to see you, but also, I suspect, because she saw that person as a potential walking mate in the woods. Just like how I love the Barbour Woods, so did Annie! One time, her mom reported to Heath that she looked out the window one day, and Annie was trotting along the trail on her own. She took herself for a walk! We all laughed and loved it.
I also taught her the word vamos, which is Spanish for let’s go! It only took her a few days to learn, and she knew how to listen for it when I came over because that meant it was a walk visit and not a visit visit, which I sometimes occasionally did.
The last time I saw Annie in person was in March 2025. I visited because a new puppy, Lucy Honeybee, and Annie’s great great great niece (I think I got the greats correct) had joined Annie’s family, and I wanted Lucy to know me during this critical stage in her life. And, of course, to visit Annie and her human mom.
Beleaguered is the best word Annie’s mom came up with for how Annie experienced Lucy, and it provided us with a lot of love, affection, and laughter for observing their relationship. I made it a point to take Annie on no-puppies-allowed walks so she could enjoy the peace and quiet of the woods without the worry of what Lucy was doing, where she was going, what she was putting in her mouth, or how she was jumping on top of Annie. I’m so glad I made the time to do that because those walks are now my last walks with Annie, and for being my last new memories, they’re pretty good.
My only regret during that time is that, according to my year-end review of Google Photos, I took 191 photos of Lucy and only 189 photos of Annie. Rationally, I know 2 photos are insignificant. Now that’s Annie gone, I want her to be on top one final time. Not that Lucy’s not ridiculously cute. Her golden-almost-wise ways are just so very different from Annie’s.
Not good or bad, just different, and I look forward to getting to know her.
However, it will never be the same as when I was living in Norfolk, and that’s why Annie’s death continues to hit me hard. With every passing day, my connection to Norfolk and the Northwest corner of Connecticut breaks a little bit more. I miss my friends, dogs, and the woods there very much.
Goodbye, Annie Rose. You may be gone from this world, but in my heart and stories, you remain a spark of gold forevermore.
On January 20, 2016, I felt so taken by these tracks crossing in the snow that I posted them on Instagram. Little did I know that very evening, my path would cross with my future husband for the first time ever.
Heath and I have now been together for nine years and married for nine years. While I do not recommend anyone else follow our 22-day whirlwind from meeting to elopement, it somehow worked for us.
At the courthouse in Nashville
So you can imagine my delight on this our ninth wedding anniversary, that I should be greeted by these tracks in the snow right in front of our house.
The house that we were never sure we would find, in a place we didn’t know if we would be able to stay, at a time when we were so exhausted of our nomadic life and ready for stability that we had no idea if anything was going to work out.
All to say, Congratulations to us! I’m sure most people thought we wouldn’t last nine months, let alone nine years. It hasn’t been easy and it hasn’t always been fun. Yet here we are still standing strong and I love Heath more today than ever.
To celebrate our anniversary, here are nine specific things I love about Heath.
He immediately understands my annoyance when I say, “They’re singing in The Hobbit ” (The book, not the movie, which I only read for the first time this past January and I am now listening to for the third time as my bedtime story).
When we had to trap a mouse during one of our housesits in Boulder last year and relocate it to a field far away, Heath put a scoop of trail mix in the mousetrap so they would have good food to eat during a traumatic time.
Heath was super excited to get a whiteboard in our basement so he could keep track of pool statistics, but then generously gave me one-third of the board for my Fergus doodles.
4. He fully participates in my enthusiasm and joy over our daily WeRateDogs calendar.
This may be the best rating of all time, not the least of which is because this dog looks SO MUCH like Fergus.
5. Anytime I show him a video of my pull-up training, he makes encouraging and inspiring statements.
6. Never once has he complained about the sheer number of times I’ve watched Annie Jr. videos on YouTube – yes, that’s right! My good friend Annie is getting a sidekick who I’ve been calling Annie Jr. for the time being. You can view a video of Annie Jr. here:
Here’s Annie, Sr., (left) with Fergus (right) if you need reminders:
7. Even though he thinks it’s disgusting that I’m using one of our glassware bowls to feed wildlife in our backyard (sadly, Patches the cat never returned after our brief love affair), he still hasn’t asked me to stop doing it.
8. When I accidentally shaved his head too close to his scalp back in November, he didn’t get mad at all. Which I appreciated and, also, because when he accidentally shaved his head too close to his scalp four weeks later, we laughed for a very long time.
9. In December, I sent out around 60 Christmas cards. Heath was tired and stressed from work and he still signed every single card that I asked him to in a timely.
Happy Anniversary, Heath! Here’s to the next nine.
I’ve been a little light on posting this summer, and it’s not because I haven’t had anything to write about. On the contrary, I’ve had so many things to write about, some life-changing, that overwhelm has been a near-constant companion since May.
In the past three months, CU Boulder hired me as a full-time teaching faculty member in the psychology and neuroscience department (I start August 19), I said goodbye to our life as housesitters, Heath and I moved into a single-family home in Lafayette, CO, we finalized our move from Norfolk (ie., last week we packed up in a U-haul our remaining stuff stored in our friends’ basement and then drove from Norfolk to Lafayette by way of Harrisburg, PA, and Murfreesboro, TN, and my beloved buddy, Dodger, died in my arms.
The first photo I ever took of Dodger and the last photo I ever took of Dodger.
I’ll write about all these events soon, but today I honor Dodger, a dog unlike any other with his sassy attitude, envelope ears, and butterscotch heart.
Barbour Woods, 2018
Dodger and his mama Cecily were a huge part of my life in Norfolk. I wrote about them on this blog multiple times (see here,here and here for examples). The world lost Cecily in June 2022, and a little over two years later, Dodger joined her. Dodger’s adoptive parents knew his end was coming. Throughout the spring, they had kept me updated on his declining health. I asked them to tell Dodger he didn’t have to wait for me to come back to Norfolk this summer and that if he needed to go, he should go. We knew we loved each other.
Cecily’s Porch, July 2022
He held on. My flight to Norfolk landed at Bradley-International Airport on Thursday, July 11th. After a good friend picked me up and dropped me off at Annie and her human’s house, and a quick hello and hugs to them, I headed over to see Dodger.
Barbour Woods, February 2018
Although it was heartbreaking to see such a commanding and agile dog as Dodger hobbling around, his face retained every inch of his Dodgerness. I understood exactly what his adoptive parents meant by his “mixed signals” when having to make the hardest decision in Dodger’s life.
Barbour Woods, October 2020
I spent that night with him and then went over again to spend hours with him on Friday night. I was told the plan had been set. A vet would come to the house on Monday.
Barbour Woods, June 2020
But Dodger never did anything according to what we planned, and Friday night, he took a turn for the worse. The vet was able to fit him in on Saturday, and his adoptive parents generously and graciously offered me to go with them.
Eve, Cecily, and Dodger in Cecily’s Living Room, February 2019
The moment I walked in and saw him on Saturday afternoon, I knew they were making the right decision. It was time. Well, it was time for Dodger. There would never be enough time for me to get in all the walks, belly rubs, and reminisces of our time together.
Dodger with mini-Dodger, a stuffed dog made by Eve Thew, August 2019
We spent our final hours together, and then suddenly, we were in the car going to the vet. Along the way, Dodger became a little agitated. The idea occurred to me that I had many videos of Cecily in my cloud storage, so I quickly found one of the longer videos (I knew where to look) and played the video on a loop. Dodger immediately settled down at the sound of Cecily’s voice.
Halloween, 2019 (I carved the pumpkin to look like Dodger)
Cecily’s name became a refrain we all echoed at some point during Dodger’s final hour – just a little bit longer, and you’ll be with Cecily again.
Christmas, 2020
Dodger’s death hits particularly hard because I truly feel it’s the end of an era. I met Cecily and Dodger early during our time in Norfolk and I spent countless hours over there every week. For over two years, Heath worked as one of Cecily’s caregivers. So many times, I tagged along on their outings. We always had such a splendid time.
Cecily, Heath, and Dodger, Harney & Sons, Millerton, NY, October 2019
There were so many small, joyful moments with Cecily and Dodger – dinners, birthdays, Super Bowl parties, Christmases, and the most spectacular sunsets viewed off of Cecily’s side porch. She had, arguably, the best sunset view in Norfolk.
July 2019, Cecily’s Porch
Cecily’s family sold her house last year so I’ll never again be able to watch one of those porch sunsets. When I drove by her house the day after Dodger died, I felt empty with loss. I no longer have any direct connection to Cecily, just my memories. Some I’ll never forget, like how I was driving Dodger home from the vet in Cecily’s car when I finally saw my first black bear in Norfolk after three years, and some are gone forever, thanks to my journal being stolen last year.
On the way back from Sand Road Vet, May 2020; Dodger could not care less we saw a bear
Thankfully, I am good friends with Dodger’s adoptive parents so that connection remains alive and well. We marveled over the idea that when we met eight years ago, we never could have guessed that someday we’d be sharing profound grief together over someone else’s dog in a veterinary exam room. We all had Dodger in our arms for those last few minutes.
Goodbye, my sweet and sassy Dodge Podge. It was a great honor to know and love you.
At the end of May, I returned to North Boulder to housesit a dog and two cats. Everyone, meet Noodle the Labradoodle,
Pabu,
and Momo.
Noodle is a silly and sweet dog who requires very little effort. Her most consuming care is twice daily walks around Wonderland Lake. But when this is your walking area, it’s not a burden at all.
Heath is also quite taken with Noodle and he dotes on her quite a bit. It’s all very cute.
The problem is she’s such a delightful dog that we want to take her with us everywhere. Yesterday when we went to see The Fellowship of the Ring, which was re-released in the theaters this weekend, we lamented that we had to leave Noodle behind. So unfair!
Nevertheless, we persevered and went without her.
When people ask me if I’m going to get a dog once we settle down (which is very, very soon, by the way), I tell them no. And it’s because of dogs like Noodle.
And Max.
And Maka.
Who are Max and Maka, you may be wondering? They’re the dogs I took care of in Central Boulder for most of May. Every morning we walked in the open space areas by their house and it was such a joyful experience to see them zooming all over the place.
I became so attached to them that in the week following the housesit move to Noodle’s house, I went to visit them twice and walk them once. Not because they needed someone to walk them but because I missed them so much and wanted to spend time on the trails with them.
When I also take into account the other dogs across the country that I love, frankly, I don’t have it in me to want a dog of my own.
In Connecticut, there’s Dodger, Annie, Chloe, and Fergus. In Tennessee there’s Rafiki. In Washington there’s Arnold, Kona, and Bitsy. And in Colorado, there’s now Foster, Mookie, Willow, Arthur, Stella, Max, Maka, and Noodle.
And this doesn’t take into account the cats and goats I love, too.
Because I know myself so well and I know how attached I get to animals, it’s best for me to spread all my love out and care for other people’s animals.
Maybe someday I’ll see things differently. But for now, it’s my goal to love all the dogs as much as I can. And cats. And goats.
This year, I’m celebrating Easter with dogs and cats in bunny ears.
These photos bring me joy, and I like to think that the time I spend creating them is one way I demonstrate my love and affection for the animals involved and their associated people.
Now that it’s almost April, I only have a few more days with Basil and Irving. This month with them has gone by way too quickly. I’m no longer convinced they’re cats. After careful consideration, I believe they’re wizards and that they’ve cast a love spell on me.
The level of ardor and devotion I have for these two is unprecedented because they’re, well, not dogs. I’m as surprised as anyone!
I did put in an offer to be added to the list of people called if there’s ever a catastrophe and their humans need to find them a new home. I’ve been fantasizing about packing them up and taking them with me, so I’m pleased my offer was accepted. Maybe someday we’ll be together again; of course, I don’t actually hope for this outcome to happen. But it’s nice to know that I can now count wizards in my extended family.
Happy Easter to all who celebrate! For those who don’t, Happy Sunday!
I’ve now returned to Boulder after 2.5 weeks of taking care of my buddy Fergus back in Norfolk, Connecticut.
Such a distinguished gentlepup.
There’s a lot I could say about the trip, but for right now, I’m not yet ready to share because I’m just starting to process some “life just sucks sometimes” events that have evolved these past few days.
In the meantime, I am overwhelmed with the amount of love and friendship I developed in Norfolk since September 2016. The support these past few days has been comforting and uplifting. From dogs, yes, but also the people. I got to visit with so many friends and friends who are like family. I love you all so, so much.
Some highlights from the week include:
a tea party worthy of Downton Abbey with some friends who are the epitome of aging well (can you guess who in the group is 100?)
walking with Dodger, Fergus, Dodger’s other dog walker, and his adopted mom in the Barbour Woods,
many walks with Annie in the woods, which also means I got to see Annie’s mom a lot (she is also very near and dear to my heart),
a walk up Haystack mountain with two friends, but because I’ve been trying to distance myself from my phone, I didn’t take any pictures,
and discovering that the groomers missed one hair on Fergus’s head.
I hope by the time I post again I’ll have some happy updates to share. If not, well … I’m sure I’ll have some more dog photos.
This past Sunday, Heath and I celebrated our 7-year wedding anniversary.
Some days I wake up and still can’t believe I’m married! The moment Heath and I met was such a surprise; the very essence of the word serendipity. I wouldn’t change anything about our love story and I’m so grateful to live it every day.
As I reflect on our seventh year, I can’t help but think of lucky number seven. I don’t know what that means exactly for a marriage, but I do know that with a lot of changes coming with this new chapter in our life as our Norfolk housesit ends after 6.5 years, I’ll take any and all luck given to us.
Happy Anniversary, Heath! In the spirit of our anniversary, here are seven specific things you do that I love:
1. Let Fergus sleep on your head.
2. Say “pay the toll,” as you pat Annie on the head while stepping over her.
I couldn’t find any pictures with Annie sitting on the steps; this is the closest one I have where she’s at least near the steps.
3. Sing silly songs you make up when playing around on the guitar.
4. Stop by the library while I’m working just to say hello.
5. Spritz and water your plants with the utmost care and concern for their growth.
6. Sit with me at the table even when you’re not eating.
7. Laugh at my daily doodles on the dry erase board.
Heath locked himself out of the house a few weeks ago. I drew this doodle that morning.
Heath does so many daily, little things to let me know how much he loves me. He also says thank you often and accepts my apologies graciously. I am grateful to know him and love him and to be loved in return.
My world became darker this week with the loss of my friend, Cecily.
I met Cecily in November 2017, when we both attended a book discussion for The Book of Joy by the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu. At the end of discussion, Cecily asked if I’d like to walk her dog Dodger a few times a week. She’d heard I was a dog person.
My life has never been the same since.
I’ve written about Cecily and Dodger multiple times on this blog. My relationship deepened with Cecily when Heath became one of her home companions in 2018. I often spent hours there on Sundays, chatting with Cecily and Heath, accompanying them on outings, and playing with Dodger.
Cecily had tears in her eyes the first time I preached at the Congregational Church in Norfolk. She stood in the pews and beamed at me when it was over. Cecily also accompanied me to my first Psychology of Stuff presentation I ever gave. She sat in the audience next to Heath at the Scoville Memorial Library and listened as I talked about why we have so much stuff and what we can do about it. The crowd numbered close to 100 and it was standing room only. Afterwards to celebrate, Cecily took us to the White Hart Inn for dinner.
More than anything, Cecily believed in me as a writer. She didn’t know me in my other life as a college professor with a long list of professional accomplishments including tenure and multiple peer-reviewed publications. So it was easy for Cecily not to judge that I left all that behind because I felt unhappy and wanted more out of my life. She asked me often about the stories I was writing and suggested just as often that Dodger would make an excellent character for one of them.
Of course, he would! Anyone who has ever met Dodger knows this guy has charisma and charm. That’s why he serves as the inspiration for the dog in my young adult novel called The Happiest Dog on the Internet. I never got the chance to tell Cecily that last month the manuscript was named a finalist in the Tassy Walden Awards for New Voices in Children’s Literature.
Mostly because I forgot.
When I last saw Cecily on Tuesday night, I reminded her of some of our favorite times together, like decorating her Christmas tree or dressing Dodger as a “chili” dog for Halloween. I spoke of the Norfolk Library’s pet parade last year and how poor Dodger had been shaved at the groomers because of a miscommunication. I told one of Cecily’s favorite stories about the time a cousin stopped her when she was out and about the town with Heath. “What’s with the guy?” the cousin wanted to know. Cecily loved to tell that story with a gleam in her eye because she loved to be on the arm of such a tall, handsome, and younger man.
I sat reminiscing with Cecily while she slept. I wracked my brain for more things to tell her. I knew that once I left my chair that would be my last goodbye. I wanted to prolong the moment. How silly of me not to think of this one thing that I know would have made her happy.
I suppose it doesn’t matter. Death goes on and the love I have for Cecily will stay with me in my heart until it’s my turn. Which, for the record, I hope is at least five decades away. There are many stories I have yet to write and many memories Heath and I have yet to make together. I hope we get the time.
Goodbye Cecily. I’m so glad you heard I was a dog person.
