“Are You Lonesome Tonight,” original silkscreen by George Rodrigue from this illustrated history of dogs in books.
Pair with The Big New Yorker Book of Dogs.
MY DOG BURNS
No more shall bear beauteous form
Be seen in the raging storm.
No more shall her wondrous tail
Dodge the quickly dropping hail.
She lived a quiet harmless life
In Hartford far from madding strife;
Nor waged no War on peaceful rat
Nor battled with wild fierce tomcat.
No, No, my beloved, dear ’cause dead
What tough thy coat was a brick dust red?
Like a good author, thou was a trusty friend
And thy tail, like his, red to the very end.
Wonderful comic on a dog’s sense of smell by Nick Sousanis, inspired by a New Yorker article on the subject. Complement with the genius of dogs and this New Yorker celebration of canines in literature and art.
“All roads lead to the Doghouse.”
Vintage placemat from Seattle’s famous Dog House restaurant, 1955.
It makes sense because some researchers … speculate that wolves first became domesticated when people settled down and started farming.
The hungry wolves would have been attracted by their garbage dumps full of food scraps. But…to take advantage of this convenient new food supply, the wolves would have to adapt not just to being near people, but also to eating their food, which now included starchy grains and vegetables.
So any wolves who could digest starch would have had an advantage [and] today’s domesticated dogs are probably descended from them.
…novel adaptations allowing the early ancestors of modern dogs to thrive on a diet rich in starch, relative to the carnivorous diet of wolves, constituted a crucial step in the early domestication of dogs.
Quite possibly the best author portrait ever: Edith Wharton with her two pups, and other portraits of writers with their pets. For more literary-canine love, complement with The Big New Yorker Book of Dogs, then switch pet gears with Hemingway and his cat.
The New Yorker celebrates 80 years of dogs