It’s been a melancholy few days of winter stillness. Hamachi gives herself to the snow like a lover. Henry is a night sky with a constellation of snowflakes lighting up his glossy back.

Hi. I’m Hamachi. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

People ask Mom if I’m named after a Japanese warrior princess. Actually, Hamachi means “yellow tail tuna.” Mom says this is because of my yellow tush, tail and fancy yellow pants on my back legs. That’s only half the story. It’s also her favorite sushi.

It took me a few years to get the hang of the concept of rules. Still, they don’t make much sense to me. I mean, why stay on this side of the fence when I can jump five feet to check out what the neighbors are up to? And why pee outside when I’ve primed the guest room rug so beautifully with a welcoming layer of my own scent? Though I’ve agreed not to chase the cats, I can’t say I’m happy about it.

My hobbies are: Dragging Henry around by the collar, defending my bones from the cats (who I haven’t noticed couldn’t care less about my bones), soaking up all mud in any environment, and barking at whatever Henry is barking at. My religion is: squirrels. Mom says that I do ethnic profiling, because Border Collies and I just do not mix. I have two bionic knees, and one bad front elbow that can’t be fixed. Who knew that jumping out a second story window would be so complicated?

Thanks, Gray for taking this great photo.

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Fetch more details and enter your best friend!

Hi. I’m Henry. That’s my little (big) sister Hamachi in the background, under my left ear. She’s 40 pounds bigger than I am, but she thinks I’m in charge. I trained her that way. I also trained my mom to think she’s in charge. I basically do whatever she says. But that’s because I put the idea in her head before she says it. Mom calls this “submissive aggressive.”  I call it survival of the cutest. My hobbies are: chasing flies, dominating my sister, begging for pizza crusts, and defending my mom from everything I decide might be dangerous, such as old ladies in front of our house and Doritos bags on the hiking trail. My religion is: tennis ball. Ok, I’m a zealot. If you come to visit me, please bring: treats. Any kind will do. I’m easy that way.

A big shout out to Libby for taking this photo that shows off how handsome I am, and for taking me on so many amazing walks when my mom has to travel.

by RUMI / Translated by Coleman Barks

One night a man was crying,
Allah! Allah!
His lips grew sweet with the praising,
until a cynic said,
“So! I have heard you
calling out, but have you ever
gotten any response?

The man had no answer to that.
He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,
in a thick, green foliage.
“Why did you stop praising?”
“Because I’ve never heard anything back.”
“This longing
you express is the return message.”

The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness
that wants help
is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining is the connection.

There are love-dogs
no one knows the names of.

Give your life
to be one of them.

I needed a place spacious as a beach to chase the tail of my doggie devotion. So here I am.

Welcome to the virtual world of Team H, where Henry and Hamachi will report from their many outposts about life in the passenger seat. It’s good to have you along for the journey. Hope you don’t mind a little mud and an excess of licking. Please note that we intend to piss higher on the tree than you. Nothing personal.