When I was a kid, we lived on a nondescript road, tucked in between Cole Harbour and Lawrencetown, Nova Scotia, known as Ritcey Crescent. It was a peaceful place to grow up, backing onto acres of forest. My brother and I spent a lot of time in those woods.
When you live in a place like that, it seems reasonable, necessary even, to have a dog. So after years of begging, my parents finally relented. In 1997, when I was ten years-old, I got my first dog. Continue reading