Apparently there are three levels of brain activity. Level 1 is the lowest level -- the amount of concentration required to, say, delete emails or serve in congress.

When I was in grade school, my teachers decided I was just about the dumbest thing to come through the door in a long time. Whatever the lesson, whatever the subject, I would sit and listen to them with a lost, glassy-eyed expression on my face.

I was riding my mountain bike in Colorado, and I met a dog who reminded me so much of my very first dog in the way she interacted with me, looked at me, and wagged her tail that I rode away convinced I'd just very possibly met the reincarnated version of my long lost friend.

Dads regard themselves a giant shock absorber, there to protect the family from the ruts and bumps on the road of life.

I am an independent, strong-willed, free, and unfettered individual who lets his wife decide for him what he wants to eat.

Dogs have important jobs, like barking when the doorbell rings, but cats have no function in a house whatsoever.

For me, the most indispensable tool for wrapping presents is a wife.

Without a dog, you'd never have anyone demonstrate how important it is to stop every day and smell the roses... and then lift your leg on them.

I am the sort of athlete who participates in a lot of winter sports -- basketball, for example, is an activity that I'll spend many hours a week watching.

My purpose, my whole life, had been to love him and be with him, to make him happy. I didn't want to cause any unhappiness now--in that way, I decided it was probably better than he wasn't here to see this, though I missed him so much at that moment the ache of it was as bad as the strange pains in my belly.

I think, of all the holidays we celebrate, my least favorite is Earth Day. For one thing, I never know what sort of gift is appropriate. A jar of dirt, maybe? And it's not clear to me why Earth even needs a 'day,' since a spin on its axis creates a day. That's like giving a man who owns a shoe store a gift of a pair of shoes.

When we adopt a dog or any pet, we know it is going to end with us having to say goodbye, but we still do it. And we do it for a very good reason: They bring so much joy and optimism and happiness. They attack every moment of every day with that attitude.

The Internet has turned the world into one gigantic linked community, capable of instantly sharing vast amounts of incorrect information.

When I was in seventh grade, I was a scrawny boy with no muscles, so I went out for wrestling. My intention was to develop secret wrestling skills so that if I were jumped by a bully, I'd shout, 'Ha!' and he'd be on the ground in a headlock.

Throughout the day, my phone will variously chirp, burp and growl -- it's like living with a velociraptor. The last time I went to try to shut it off, the thing bit me.

That's the lesson of the dogs, that it's important to both live in the moment and then go on to the next wonderful thing.

My main characters are the most sunny, happy, optimistic, loving creatures on the face of the Earth. I couldn't be happier that's where I start. I can put as many flawed people in the dog's world as I like, but the dog doesn't care. Dog doesn't judge. Dog doesn't dislike. Dog loves. That's not so bad.

I was an arrogant man. I not only thought I could manage my life without help, I wanted it that way. I had best-selling books and a TV show and movie contracts; I felt invincible, secure in the thought that everything was my doing. And then, like all arrogant men, I came to stumble.

You'd think skiing wouldn't be strenuous -- all you have to do, after all, is start at the top and let gravity pull you to the dessert bar in the lodge. But at those elevations, you'll find about as much oxygen as you'll find kindness from your children. It's like spending six hours holding your breath.

Without a dog, no one will listen to your opinions for more than a few minutes without interrupting to tell you their opinions, which you won't find nearly as interesting.