About

There are few things more purely good than watching a dog run free.

Instinctually, I want to make such moments last. I can’t — of course. Dogs don’t live forever. Nothing does. It’s because we know this that the time we do have matters.

In this way, to me, beauty and grief are inextricably linked.

Writing is not how I report my experience; it’s how I make my lived moments feel more real. In that way, an essay marks its author with an internal tattoo.

An award-winning author, an award-winning journalist, and an altogether underachieving writer, I know what it’s like to live in a cage, at least of the metaphorical variety. And, to be sure, we need cages; too much freedom is its own burden. That’s also why moments when we get to roam free are worth savoring. For me, the best way to do that is to write about them. The through-line is movement — observed, witnessed, experienced.

Untethered Dog is a place with few fences.