peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

If a picture is worth a thousand words. This one is worth a thousand fence repairs, a thousand apologies to the neighbors for chasing their cats, a thousand holes dug in my garden, a thousand jump-ups to lick my face.

These two Black and Tan Coonhounds–Sweetpea and Elwood–are probably the cutest and naughtiest dogs I have ever encountered. Their eyes scream mischief. The mud on their noses screams trouble.

This story is filled with good intentions. You know the book Where the Red Fern Grows? Well, it’s one of the most tear-filled books I have ever read aloud to my children (that and Charlotte’s Web). In the story, the boy’s prized possessions are his two hounds. After reading the book, I thought my son needed two hounds of his own. For him to raise and nurture–and become part of his boyhood. My mad hunt for Coonhounds began.

Well, whaddya know?! A few lucky Internet searches turned up a rescue shelter with a litter of puppies that needed to be placed. It was love at first sight. We needed not just one, but two. Double love. My son proudly held both puppies all the way home on his lap.

These puppies grew and their legs soon doubled, then tripled in length. Perfect for jumping 6-foot fences 10-foot fences. Perfect for running loose through our woodsy neighborhood to roll in deer poop and scout out skunk, raccoons, and porcupine. Once, after adventuring, they returned home with faces full of porcupine quills.

Did ya know that porcupine quill-removal requires pliers?

It was never a dull moment with this dynamic duo. But it wasn’t quite the boy-and-hound experience like in the book, as I had envisioned.

Nevertheless, these dogs left a footprint of memories–multiplied by eight–in our family’s memory bank.

I am reminded of a little story. A few years ago, I was walking to a meeting with a high-powered client. I was walking quickly, taking a short cut through the grass because I don’t want to be late!

Once seated at the table, in the meeting–me with five men–ready for our high-powered business talk…I smell something.

Whoopsidaisy, it’s me.

I had stepped in dog shit. And my shoe was covered in it. (If my dog poops, it’s called poop. When I step in another dog’s poop, it’s called shit.)

Do I play it off and pretend I didn’t step in dog shit? The smell is starting to emanate, permeate.

I excused myself. Bolted to the restroom. Washed off my shoe in the sink (gross). And walked back to the meeting, playing it cool, pretending as if nothing happened.

Shit happens.

Did you know that falling apples pose dangers to napping dogs?

So, here’s how. We have a dog named Lucy. She likes to sleep on her big, fluffy Costco dog bed right off the kitchen, next to the counter. Our family is usually in the kitchen, so this is a great place for Lucy to be part of the family. She is right in the middle of the action. Yet, the location of her dog bed might be too close to the action. Let me explain.

We keep a big bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter. It’s always filled with apples. Every time we walk over to eat an apple-a-day, Lucy tenses up, looking worried.

She is anticipating the apple that just might fall on her head. This has happened. A few times.

Do you see the fear in her sweet little face? Don’t worry, no animals were harmed in this photo shoot (Lucy hates having her picture taken).

I think it’s time to move the bowl of fruit. Especially because it’s apple season.