Any time I feel a spell of information sickness coming on — pretty much daily under the baleful Boss Trump regime — I load up three dogs and drive to the dog park.
Well, two actually. Jesse, my beloved 14-year-old Great Pyrenees, doesn’t play well with others. Having spent 10 years guarding livestock (and cats) on our farm, Jesse suspects smaller dogs of being cow-chasers, larger ones of being coyo…
