Connecticut Commentary: Red Notes from a Blue State

As we were walking down the line of spotless kennels, each one with a dog in it, Mark Greenberg paused by one of them. In it was tan dog, very lively and exuberant. Mr. Greenberg offered the dog his hand. The dog immediately calmed down, as if he had been waiting in the dark watches of the night for a familiar presence. Finally satisfied, the dog reverted into his usual mode but, as I thought, with a sprightly bounce in his step. His tail was wagging merrily. The kennel manager, Lisa Agresti, was beside us. We had just toured the inside of the kennels, all of them shining like new pennies, and even now in the late afternoon, smelling of water, a hint of disinfectant hanging about walls of the Simon Foundation in Bloomfield . “Would you like some ear protection?” Ms. Agresti offered. “It can get a little loud in here.” I waved away the suggestion. Half way down the hall of kennels I was beginning to have second thoughts. As soon as the dogs caught a whiff of us, they set up a ...