Susan Coll

susan coll
Essay
The Washington Post
We thought our dog was having a stroke. She was stoned. 

Last summer, my husband had gone hiking with our two dogs when one of them — a year-old rescue who weighs in at over 50 pounds, can scale steep inclines like a mountain goat and has the speed and grace of an Olympic athlete — suddenly collapsed.

Unable to stand, Dafna was disoriented and had also become incontinent. Was it a seizure? A stroke? A snake bite?

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As David Sibelius boils the lobsters for the annual dinner he hosts for his graduate students at the Boston Institute of Technology, his 12-year-old daughter, Ada, observes him with a sense of foreboding.
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