The Dog Days Of Summer

Chill with our tales of hot jobs, clever dogs, cars with busted A/C, sweet mountain getaways and memories of summers past.

Hot Jobs

Photo by Bryan Hainer

Can’t catch a break

On a scorching summer day, the humble backstop is a hero just for being there | Read more…

Photo by Isaac Brekken

The Man Who Listens to Pigs

For this Las Vegas farmer, summer in the sty couldn’t be any sweeter | Read more…


Summer Job, With Icing

Being a cupcake is no bowl of cherries | Read more…

Mountain Retreats


Luxury Plus

Sure, Terranea will pamper you, but it will also send you on adventures to remember | Read more…


So Close and Yet So Far

The Resort on Mount Charleston | Read more…


Fly In, Bliss Out

Montage Deer Valley, Park City, Utah | Read more…

Staying Here


Staycation, All I Ever Wanted

Las Vegans have increasingly turned during the recession years to a marriage of convenience: the Vegas staycation, where locals stay on the Strip and act like tourists. | Read more…


Sunny Memories, Made in Vegas

School’s out, and the memory-making season has begun. It’s a season of long trips and back-seat bickering, one that has, perhaps, always been better in retrospect. After a couple of decades, car sickness becomes funny. | Read more…

Summer Memories



Wandering the mean streets of Summerlin, this hot dog could play all the angles | Read more…

Illustration by Joseph Bergin III

Cars of a Certain Age

Guys like to talk cars. And even more than that, they like to talk about their first cars—demonstrably dysfunctional cars, gasping through the badlands of long-lost teenage summers. | Read more…



A summer camp, a rivalry and a hot concrete slab | Read more…

Remember the Heat

Somehow, the extremes of summer make our days more memorable. Here are some of our reminiscences. | Read more

Suggested Next Read


Dog Days of Summer


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Maybe it was because he was so ill-suited for the Las Vegas heat—a thick-coated husky—that I fell for him. Or perhaps it was his Paul Newman eyes. Or the pitiful but resourceful way he licked the sprinkler heads in the suburban park across the street from my house. I looked up and down the road for his people and saw none. He was a runaway, or a cast-off. I’d read about people leaving their pets behind when they abandoned their foreclosed homes; Newman could’ve been one of those. Poor bastard. And with nothing but this fur coat to wear!