The Washington Post, May 28th, 1989
In my early twenties, a girlfriend left me and her dog at the same time. The night before she departed for parts unknown, she called and asked me to hold her dog for "a while." That was 1963 and in New York. In 1974 and in Washington, the dog died. For the dog, "a while" turned out to be a lifetime. Duke was the dog's name, 6 months old when he first came into my life and ready for instruction. I taught him to heel and to sit. I taught him to stay and to come. And, in return, he taught me many things-the love of animals, for one thing, and, for another, that there are many ways to see the worl...
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