|Outside Hockey Rink, Wellesley, MA|
I've always been fascinated with smell. I'm not alone. Look at the millions of people who wear perfume and cologne. Smells touch more than our noses, they put imprints on our memory. If a woman walks by wearing Tea Rose, it reminds me of my mother. If someone is wearing Polo for Men, Mike D instantly flashes into my mind. You could smell Mike down the hall in high school. He's since toned it down. When I walk into the Boston Garden for Bruins games, I'm overwhelmed by the smell of Dunkin Donuts Coffee brewing inside of North Station.
The picture above sparks so many memories. The dog is on a stoop outside of the Babson Skating Center in Wellesley, MA. Hockey practice had just finished and several players were hanging out on the stoop with their oversized bags slung over their shoulders. The dog was in smell heaven even though the players stunk to high heaven. I know this because I play the game and cover the Boston Bruins for a living. Most locker rooms smell like sweaty athletes, whatever that means. But there's no smell like a hockey locker room--and nothing smells worse than the inside of hockey gloves. Hours after you play, shower and scrub, hockey is still on your hands. And as we know dogs will bury their noses in just about anything.
Were it not for noses, Follow the Dog Home would not have been the book that it eventually became. Beverly's nose (seen above) led us back to the place where our journey with family dogs started 70 years earlier. Dee Dee's nose led her to a skunk spraying which fouled the noses of family members, readers and especially Dee Dee (seen below watching over family). The point is where there are smells, there are tells; stories to be told--whether it's a book, or another dog on a stoop somewhere else.