Good writing (PLUS dogs!)

A few sentences in this NYTimes piece about therapy dogs were so good that they just about made me stop breathing. I copied a few of my favorite lines from the piece and pasted them below. I'll print them out later and tape them into my notebook.

Some people collect spoons. Some people collect postcards. I collect good sentences.

Added bonus: Here's a photo of our dog, Skipper. You might recognize him if you've read  Rachel Spinelli Punched Me in the Face!

From "Wonder Dog" by Melissa Fay Greene (New York Times 2/2/12):

"How could I take care of a dog?…I can't even take care of myself."

"All I could see ahead of me was a long, slow death. I started stockpiling morphine."

"Karen," the nurse said, "get out of this bed, and let's go get you a puppy."

Cool dog. Lucky kid.

She wore him down. He loved her, trusted her judgment and knew she wasn't going to give up.

You've got a kid who's picking his nose? The dog isn't thinking, That is gross. He's thinking, Save one for me!

Chancer didn't know what he was missing. But his trainers knew. "Chancer," Dulebohn says, "really needed a boy."

The big dog lies on top of the boy he loves, and seals him off from the dizzying and incomprehensible world for a while.

Chancer has not cured Iyal.

Beyond cognitive ability or disability, beyond predictions of a bright future or a dismal one, on a field of grass and hard-packed dirt, between the playground and the baseball diamond, you can see them sometimes, the two of them, running, laughing their heads off, sharing a moment of enormous happiness, just a boy and his dog.