Some Were Angels

You’ve known pet lovers and dog people. You might be one yourself. But the bond goes deep for Edward Grinnan, whose spiritual connection to the dogs he’s loved made each seem like an instrument of heaven sent to guide him to being a better human being. All were teachers but...

- Edward Grinnan

THAT YEAR, 2009, Julee and I were having my family out from Michigan to our weekend place in the Berkshires for Thanksgiving, a visit that occasioned the planning and logistics normally reserved for visiting heads of state. That’s because Julee wants everything to be better than perfect, which is an issue right there. Still, the pursuit of perfection can be a lot of fun— especially when it’s for your family— in addition to being a lot of work, and we were having a good time running around like crazy people the week end before. Our big young golden retriever, Millie, knew something was up but couldn’t quite figure it out except for the fact that it apparently involved large amounts of food, which was a promising sign indeed. Ask any dog.

I took the train back down to the city Sunday night, intending to come back up Tuesday to complete the assignments Julee had given me, which consisted mostly of deciphering with one hand endless hand-scrawled, food-stained lists of things like fresh cardoon and jarred barberry while trying to drive with the other.

Then came the call Monday morning, just as dawn was yawning over the Manhattan skyline. Julee’s voice seemed far away to my sleep besotted brain.

“Ed, I broke my collarbone.”

“You what? How? Where are you?”

“Home.”

“I’ll be right up.”

“Don’t worry. Millie’s fine. She saved me.”

Minutes later I was getting a new ticket for the next train up to Hudson, New York, and then a cab to Monterey, Massachusetts, another hour on top of the two stuck on Amtrak, by which time I’d begged God for help every way I knew how and was beginning to repeat myself. I was a nervous wreck when I jumped out of the cab and heard Millie barking from inside the house.