I have two “dirty old egg-sucking dogs.”

One prances into the henhouse, simultaneously removes two eggs, and prances out. He doesn’t do this around me, but there is someone I know very well who lets him do as he pleases whenever he pleases, and this is what he pleases.

My other dirty egg-sucker has a different approach. He stands on his short hind legs and methodically examines each straw-lined box until he hits pay dirt.

He picks up his treasure and gently and very slowly tiptoes away. He seems to think he’s invisible to me if he’s slow enough.

Often, he lays his egg down to guard or to admire.

Unfamiliar with the word “savor,” he sometimes devours it on the spot instead.

Occasionally, he races down the road, and both the dog and egg reach their destination in pristine condition.

Now that’s moxie.

My Dirty, Old Egg-Sucking Dogs was originally published in The Daily Cuppa on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Collins Dictionary has named “mogging” its Word of the Year for 2026. It’s a relatively new slang word that indicates you have been outshone or outperformed by someone or something.

It’s a word that is said to be popular with Gen Z and Gen Alpha.

I must admit, mogged is a word that, until this morning, I have not come across before. Should that be a concern to someone who writes a lot?

There are words, slang, and expressions that I’ve never heard of.

And I suspect that I use words, slang, and expressions that younger generations must wonder what I’m talking about.

Maybe the words I use no longer shine as much as they once did.

They have been mogged.

The Collins Dictionary Word of The Year For 2026 is Mogging was originally published in The Daily Cuppa on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The period from Navratri to Bhai Dooj feels like pure magic.The nine days of Navratri are filled with the blessings of Goddess Durga. Many people fast or follow a strict vegetarian diet, while evenings come alive with dandiya and Durga Puja celebrations. On the tenth day comes Dussehra, marking the triumph of good over evil.

Then comes Karwa Chauth, the Indian Valentine’s Day. Married women fast without food and water throughout the day and break their fast only after sighting the moon.

Soon after arrives Diwali, the festival of lights and everyone’s favourite. Homes are beautifully decorated, sweets are lovingly prepared, and people wear new clothes. Families gather, laughter fills every corner, and happiness seems to shine as brightly as the lamps.

The festive season concludes with Bhai Dooj, celebrating the special bond between brothers and sisters.

For me, these weeks are more than festivals. They are pure magic.

The Magic Between Navratri and Bhai Dooj was originally published in The Daily Cuppa on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The magician and comedian Tommy Cooper was a big star of light entertainment in the UK until his death in 1984. As a boy, I grew up laughing at his clumsy stage performances.

But that was all part of his act, based on failed magic tricks.

He was a regular on British television, and millions would watch. He perfected doing magic tricks badly, only to then do them right.

His final act was also remembered by millions.

Appearing on a live stage television broadcast, he suddenly collapsed. The audience, thinking it was part of his act, laughed. They thought it was a slapstick joke.

But it wasn’t.

It was later announced that he had died, on stage, of a heart attack.

With millions watching, he had performed his last magic trick.

The Death of a Magician was originally published in The Daily Cuppa on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Oh, you can’t beat fun at the old golf course, especially on a cloudless fall day, with no one but Mike, me, and Jim, Elvis impersonator, the superintendent of this nine-hole course in northeast Iowa.

An empty links meant hundreds of tinkle options for me, hazarded by four cups of coffee.

This glorious day, something miraculous. On two consecutive holes, Mike chipped in from off the green with a seven-iron. Each time, his ball bounced several times before hitting the flagstick and plunging into the cup. For duffers like us, these were images to recall in the depth of winter.

But it also got me thinking about last times. We’re both late-stage septuagenarians with months before our next game.

Will there be golf in heaven?

Will there be a porta-potty on every tee box?

Will we listen to the late Jim or the real Elvis?

The Last Game was originally published in The Daily Cuppa on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.