The road to dog rescue is paved with the 3 Bs: Bugs, Barf, and Bites, and I’ve had my share of them all. Date night with Karen is less likely to involve a romantic dinner and more likely to involve detonating flea bombs in my car to eliminate party favors left by a recent transport.
Twenty years ago, I walked into dog rescue quite literally by accident. While home from France for the winter holidays, I went with my bestie Carey to the Connecticut Humane Society to help search for her first dog. Initially reluctant to join her, I thought seeing all the undeservingly homeless dogs would break my heart. Which, predictably, it
