At the risk of seeming obsessed, I just had to show this picture. What have we gotten ourselves into with this dog? She really sleeps like this regularly. I laugh out loud at her at least several times a day. From this, to her talking in her sleep, to crying at the door looking like a ball of MUD and smelling worse, thinking she’ll actually be let inside, to the times she’ll sit in the yard chasing her tail, to the way she’s gotten down the “you’ve-abused-me-since-the-day-i-was-born” face perfectly.
She’s a mess. That’s really all that can be said.
What a great and typical portrait of my first “grand child”; a four-legged blond streak who makes herself at home anywhere she is uncrated. Have Froggie, will travel; but poor de-limbed Froggie- the proverbial chew toy who earned his name. Such a poor shade of green being slowly consumed by new puppy teeth and left to hop in circles with one or two webbed appendages strewn on the floor.
But, Rosie Jane you are coming along. It appears that K-9 Kindergarten has polished some of your rough little puppy edges into a refined pooch. It is always great to see the chile coming to visit and showing off new tricks and then dashing around the house and yard like a crazed gazelle being pursued by a pride of ravenous lions. Those ears flipped in reverse and those long gangly legs churning away at full tilt. It is good to have puppy exuberance around since it is contagious and makes everyone pick up the pace. Yes, everyone picks up the pace, even poor Uncle Buck(y) who must wonder what in the world he has done to deserve the sheer shark-like frenzy he must face when Niece Rosie comes to visit for a spell. He is literally subjected to the slings and arrows of the possessed Christiansburg Labrador Retriever.
One more great tale before bedtime Rosie Jane. Thanks for locating my lost cell phone. I know your mom won’t believe that I had no intentions of you plowing into the pond and then going aqua-berserk splattering mud and pond scum all over tarnation. And just think we were only moments away from crating up in a semi-clean tan suit. But, alas, the Baptist in you took headed up the hill and buzzed by your parents and took several dunkings and frolics in the mud puddles gracing my rustic lane. It was here that you performed your magic. As you remember I could NOT find that cell phone of mine. In fact for two days I was disconnected from this high tech tin can and string. I looked everywhere: the pond (that got you AND me in trouble), the edge of the woods, the garden and compost area, the grape vines, and now, I was heading down the hedge row to see if the forsythia fingers had not plucked my phone pouch from my belt loop. I had just about given up when out in front of me I see you; this tawny tar baby bursts from the mud hole in which you were wallowing, do a couple of flips and dart off into the thick undergrowth of the forsythias. Back and forth you zigged and zagged. Then I saw you lean low, dart under a long tendril of hedge and scoop up something from far in the confines of the tunnel. As you blasted out the hedge I spotted my cell phone and case hanging from your maul. Of course it took some yelling, herding, and final corralling to get you to release your prize. Thanks, Rosie Jane – some things are meant to be. Sure you got wet and muddy, but you and that super snoot sniffer were placed here to snarffle out my lost communication device.
Sweet dreams Rosie Jane. Tell your mom and dad I enjoyed seeing them this weekend and it was so good to have the whole family together for Mother’s Day. We miss you and come visit again very soon.