Surprises. I’m not sure how I feel about them. If it is a surprise cookie — preferably peanut butter chocolate chip — waiting for me at work, I’m all in. If it is a surprise left by a dog, I’m all out.
Relaxing in the recliner late Wednesday night with Pepper Jack, Lady Human — lounging in the recliner next to me with Cody on her lap — handed me a Kit Kat.
My week started with this text message: “Derek, I think you may want to sit down for a little fantasy advice and player picking with Janet this week!!”
I dropped the ball last week, like New England Patriots wide receiver N’Keal Harry fumbling out of the end zone.
As the alarm went off on my phone, I contemplated remaining in bed. It was 6:30 a.m. on Labor Day, and for those who know me, there is only one 6:30 in the day that I am familiar with, and it’s not the a.m one.
I’ve rediscovered a childhood hobby this summer — golf.
Sports and animals bring people together. The two are the kindling that ignites conversations between strangers.
Impressed. That’s the word that comes to mind when perusing posts on the Adjust Your Altitude — Kodiak Participants Facebook group.
Dogs and buns will be flying on the Fourth of July.
Today marks an end of an era at the Kodiak Daily Mirror.
Pepper Jack has acquired a strange addiction — eating off the kitchen floor.
With the easing of mandates, I spent a portion of last Saturday playing fungo golf at Baranof Field.
Cody James — yes, we give middle names to our pets — was at it again Thursday.
Hoagy is the gold at the end of the rainbow.
For those wondering, Lady Human did not boot me out of the Clarkston Zoo.
While taking the garbage out, I’ve been known to stick my head in the dumpster and look around.
A few weeks ago, on one of my walks home from work, I checked in with Grandma C.
I survived the first week without live sporting events.
Well, my job just got a lot easier ... and boring.
At the end of every conversation I had with Joe “Coach” Floyd, he would ask me about my bike.
I did it. I finally dusted up enough courage to take the plunge.
The NFL season is over, but football is not.
I’m all for blizzards, especially the kind served at Dairy Queen, but this week’s storm that paralyzed the city was ridiculous.
There are not a lot of perks that come with being a reporter.
Which one of these three statements is true:
I am a television junkie, and earlier this week, I stumbled upon a show that zoomed into my top 10 — “America’s Top Dog.”
“HOLY FREEZER STICKS!”
Santa Claus must have had time to read my letter because the big man delivered, well sort of.
Dear Santa,
Two new members were added to the Clarkston Zoo this week — Elmer, the bunny, and Danny, the deer.
No more oatmeal for dinner — the Lady Human of the Clarkston Zoo has returned, and with that comes a variety of meal options.
It has been a chaotic and tiring week at The Clarkston Zoo.
There I was, sprawled out on a couch inside room No. 139 at the Springhill Suites in Anchorage sound asleep.
“Oh, the weather outside is frightful
I gingerly turned the doorknob of the front door of my mom’s house, trying to be as quiet and sneaky as I could be.
As you read this, I should be 30,000 miles above ground, sitting on an Alaska Airlines jet headed to Washington state.
I stood inside an exam room at the Kodiak Veterinary Clinic, grasping Gizmo close to my heart, trying to keep him from seeing the tears trickling down my whiskery face.
Gizmo is in the dog house.
I had this week’s column figured out, that was until I forgot to cover the event.
Let me squash the rumors right now. I am not going anywhere. You, the readers, are stuck with me rather you like it or not.
Every guy with a lady human has been in this situation: stuck in a store while she puts her sole in shoe after shoe.
Last week in this space, I wrote about Pepper Jack’s early-morning walks. This week, let’s talk about his late-night outings.
As a sports scribe, 7 a.m. does not exist. I go to bed late and get up late.
WHEW. That was the sound of me exhaling.
I didn’t plan on spending part of Thursday afternoon chasing a ferret around the Clarkston Apartment, but there I was caught in some kind of game with Otis.
Opening up the mailbox and finding a white jury notice postcard is a mood killer. I received mine during the summer and, since I coach baseball during that time, got it shifted to January and February.
I have my nephews to blame for the song that keeps popping in my head.
There was no Loyola-Chicago in this year’s American Kennel Club’s most popular dog breed rankings.
The past two weeks have not been merry at the Clarkston Zoo.
I didn’t realize how physically demanding ringing a bell was until last Friday.
It’s been a depressing week in the Clarkston apartment, despite the fact that the Seahawks won and my fantasy football team is still kicking.
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