With that being said, Sophie is my shadow. Where I go, she goes. Jillian had a little dog whose fur was black as night, if Jillian left to go to work, Sophie was sure to fight. When I leave her, I can walk out the front door and hear the keening cries from the bereft “pea.” Yes, Sophie loves me.

Sometimes, though, all bets are off. One night last week, I was grumpy and tired and had grabbed my book to read before bedtime, as I frequently do. I lay down with my book and my small package of whole wheat peanut butter crackers and finally, finally managed to relax. As I munched my crackers, I read chapter after chapter. Chew, chew, chew, swallow, drink the water. Repeat. I looked up and there was my adoring little dog…with narrowed eyes, cocked ears and a look of pure envy. Her face said, “Give me those crackers and no one gets hurt.”

I had one cracker left. I was hungry, tired and needed my cracker. I slowly put it in my mouth and chew, chew, chew, swallow, water. Sophie looked at me, looked at the empty wrapper and stood up. She walked to the far side of the bed and turned her back to me. She refused to look at me or engage in any kind of cuddling. Yes, I’d just done the impossible: I’d made my dog hate me over peanut butter crackers.

The next day, I woke up to my dog nuzzling my hand and all slights forgotten. I got cuddles, hugs and sweetness. If only all relationships were so simple.

Lately, though, the weather has been nice and I have made the decision to be a more active person. As such, I have been making it a priority to find reasons to move my body. This benefits Sophie in that she sees me suit up in the sloppiest mom-gear you’ve ever seen, complete with ridiculous slouchy cap, push my headphones into my cell phone and slink out the door like I’m heading off to prison for the day.

Not Sophie, however. The minute I come day those stairs, it is on like Donkey Kong. So, this day, I could hear her start her own routine and I smiled.

I hit the bottom step and her little toenails began to click across the floor towards the door where her harness and leash hang. Water dribbled down my chin as I attempted to hydrate myself while not choking on the scent of the most obnoxious sunscreen ever and I watched her eyes dilate much the same way those of an addict do when they get a fix. Sophie jumped on the couch and begin to whine and do circles, which is her way of telling me, “C’mon, C’mon, let’s go.” As I placed her harness over her head, she gently lifted her paw through the harness on her own to hurry the process. I laughed and turned on the programs that I use on my cell phone that track my progress and give me tunes to listen to while I walk. During this short 15 seconds I thought her little head might explode as she pulled me towards the door. The other dogs looked at us with reproach.

We were met with a cloudy day as Sophie did her dancing circles down the steps to let me know how excited she was to be going on her walk. When I say she turned to me and smiled with a full set of teeth, I’m not exaggerating. She’s started doing this for the entire first two blocks of our walk until she starts to sweat and her tongue lolls out of her mouth and she realizes that walking is work. While I fiddled with my phone and walked uphill and downhill and all over the place, my dog did doggie things. She stared at the blue sky. She sniffed at birds who were bathing in puddles, but left them alone. She considered all forms of anything on the ground leftovers that she could potentially eat unless I caught her in time. This included worms, dead birds and bird poop. Other dogs were cheerfully greeted with a growl and then a playful yap and then promptly ignored. Squirrels, however…

Squirrels were to be chased with reckless abandon. By this I mean that squirrels were to be chased regardless of how hard I tugged and pulled on the leash and if that meant I fell on my backside because Sophie has twisted it around my body, then so be it. Squirrels were the enemy.

Also to be chased were men with their shirts off. Clearly, to dogs, this is a symbol of some form of aggression that will not stand. I had no idea this was the case until Sophie began to chase a half-clothed man and refused to stop until I almost fell into a street full of traffic and I screamed at her. This caused the half-clothed man to look at me like I was the one with the problem and to run even faster in the opposite direction. Sophie merely gave me her doggy grin and trotted back to me as if nothing happened.

Towards the end of our walk, we headed down the path toward home and Sophie cheerfully barked her recognition that we were near. This is the same dog that almost had a coronary that I wouldn’t take her on her walk quickly enough. As we edged toward our mailbox, she looked back at me and smiled her doggy smile. We were home and tomorrow would bring another walk.

There will always be squirrels out there that need to be taught a lesson.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time in the last couple of years reading about shelter animals and rescue dogs, and the number of puppies and kittens that are brought back to shelters after the holidays is staggering. I’m not going to get on my soapbox for long, but I would like to make a request in that I’d like for anyone that is considering a puppy this year to consider a couple of options.

One option is to consider a fully grown dog or cat from a shelter or a rescue site. Dogs are often trained and do well with children. They can be just as cute and cuddly as puppies and need just as much love. They are silly and friendly and sweet. They also piddle on the floor a lot less. Cats are independent and don’t need much to be amused. They are easily potty-trained and if you ever wanted to know what to do with empty toilet-rolls, now you know.

If you absolutely must have a puppy or kitten, please find them at a shelter, if you can. Shelters are overrun in the cold weather and the number of animals that are put to sleep is astounding.

Lastly, when you get your new animal, please take care of it’s doggy/kitty parts and make sure it can’t procreate. It helps keep the pet population down and animals from being stuck in poor situations.

My dog, Sophie, is one of the joys of my life. She was rescued by a family about 2 hours from where I live and I wouldn’t trade her for anything. When I’m sick she sleeps by my side. When I wake up in the morning she cuddles me. When I leave the house, she cries because she can’t go with me. As I type this, I sit cross-legged on my recliner. Sophie is at my feet. She wasn’t a puppy when I got her and she’s not the most beautiful dog in the world. I love her tremendously and she is one of my best friends.

You can see my right sidebar for Dogs in Danger, which is a site that lets you know about dogs that are in Kill shelters and need a home near you. You can also donate to the humane society there. You can google for shelters in your area and Petfinder.com often allows shelters to use them as a resource.

Please help save an animal this season. Dogs, cats, turtles, you name it, need a good home. If you choose an animal this year, please be a responsible pet owner.

Blaspheme, right? It’s true. Part of being a parent means that I have to do the hard work such as disciplining my child when he misbehaves or chooses to mess around in class as opposed to choosing to learn and distract those around him. This makes my job as a parent difficult and unenjoyable.

Lately, AJ has been testing his independence and his boundaries at school. This week he forgot something necessary at school and, as such, he ended up going to bed early and his dog was not allowed to sleep in his bedroom. In this house, one thing is always true: Wherever my child goes, so goes his dog. There has never been a more loyal dog than that dachshund to her boy.

What I knew was that the separation of the two was going to hurt one person: me. Why is this? Because AJ was going to go to sleep and I was going to be left with the whiny, leaky eyed dog that would look at the gaited stairs and turn eyes on me that were alternately hateful, pitiful and pleading. This is exactly what happened. She would go to the gate at the stairs and stand there for 10 minutes at a time while looking up at the darkened stairs and waiting for him to come down to get her. When it didn’t happen, she would come to me, grunt sadly and run back to the stairs. Her message was clearly “Please let me be with him.”

I had to say no. Over 100 times in the 4 hours I was awake after he went to bed did I say no. Eventually, she wore herself out and curled up on my legs. When I finally went to bed she calmly waited at the gate for me to allow her up. When I didn’t, she whined at me and watched me climb the stairs. I glanced at her sadly and went to bed.

Two hours later, I awoke and, eyes half closed, headed for the bathroom door. I happened to look down the stairs and she sat there, quietly and patiently, waiting for her boy.

In the morning, I cannot imagine what their reunion was like, but my son has been on his best behavior ever since and she has not left his side. He also has not forgotten a single bit of work since. Sometimes, a reminder of the people we let down by our failures can be the most honest motivator in our lives.

And sometimes people aren’t actually people but the vision of a dog that loves you more than anything standing alone in the dark waiting for you to come for her…

One of my favorite things about summertime is the storms. The outrageous, amazing, beautiful, loud, house-shaking, booming, scary movie, better wrap yourself in a blanket and have some hot chocolate and snuggle with your honey thunderstorms that hit the South are this wondrous creation that you have to experience to believe. I’ve mentioned my love of the storms while I was growing up in Illinois. There are few things I like better than a good thunderstorm. I like to sit in my car and watch it through the sunroof. Or through the windows of my house. Or if I’m at a house with a screened in porch, that is the bees knees, right there. If a slight breeze is to be had to give me goose pimples, oh goodness, that is about the best to be had.

It’s about my idealized version of heaven.

I do love a good storm.

Not everyone shares my feelings of a storm. No, not everyone.

Not even everyone in my house. The humans are fine with it. Generally, they think of it as a burden to their baseball schedules. Well, with the exception of this human who clearly finds it a delightful slice of life. The turtle and the cat seem to be a-ok oblivious to the storm and think of it as another sound effect to a life of monotony. And 3 out of 4 dogs like to snuggle under the blanket and beg for the hot chocolate.

But that 1 dog…she is an unhappy little noodlehead when it comes to thunderstorms. She’s a much better predictor than the weatherman, bless his heart. I can tell a storm is coming about 45 minutes early. Her ears will perk and the whining starts. She can be in her kennel or in the house.

When she’s out of her kennel, immediately she jumps on the couch and her head goes into my lap. She begs for ear rubbing and looks at me like we are going to die. Right now. She’s serious. Rub her ears because we are going to bite it.

T-minus 20 minutes to storm. Her butt starts to wiggle and she tries to put all 35 pounds of her directly onto my lap.

T-minus 10 minutes to storm. I hear a wailing like that of a banshee who has been caught by a death eater who has just been told this is his last snack and he must om nom nom before lethal injection.

T-minus 3 minutes and counting. She paces the floor like an expectant father while continuing to wail and look at me like I’m a jerk who won’t stop the weather. This includes me looking at her like her voicebox is optional in dogs.

Storm-time. She is back in my lap, shaking like a leaf while I croon to her and whisper all kinds of human soothing noises that dogs don’t understand because, according to my son, “Dogs don’t speak English.” After about 5 minutes, Molly is fine again because, “Oh, hey, it’s just a storm.”

The three tiny dogs are looking at her like, “The big dumb dog just got it, let’s go fight over our chewy!” and the world is again at peace in the house.

After two movies, we realized the error of our ways. We had zero Mountain Dew and no snacks. This called for a run to the Mapco at 1am. The minute the dogs heard me ask Bryan if he wanted to “go” they went nuts. Molly stood by the door, Prue smiled like a madman, and Sophie started running laps around the living room. Each was trying to prove that she was the dog to “go.” Reagan, thankfully, was upstairs sleeping in bed with AJ. Bryan and I watched Sophie lap for a good 5 minutes before we decided that they were all cute. I am such a freaking sucker for these dogs.

This was my mistake.

A large, huge, gigantic mistake. I’m a sucker and I need to stop that.

I loaded the dogs into the back seat and Bryan jumped into the passenger seat. The one thing about late night trips to the nearest Mapco is that the people are always super nice to me. The store is neat and clean and they have a nice amount of food and drink. They aren’t paying me to say that. I really adore that place.

As I was there, I found a pen that had an adorable little onion-headed guy on a pen. I had to get it for AJ. I don’t know why he would want an onion-headed guy on a pen. I just know he’ll love it. Bryan was already checked out and ready to go while I was still browsing at the fountain drinks.

In my quest to become the “best mom ever,” I grabbed a 12-pack of Krispy Kremes for breakfast. When I got to the counter, the sweet cashier looked at me and said, “You know, if you go grab the ones in the case, they are fresh AND they are cheaper.” Oh, lady. You have no idea what you’ve done. She had to void my entire transaction while the man in the business suit (at 1am) rang up his 6-pack and rolled his eyes at me. I picked out sprinkled and iced and chocolate and filled and glazed and you name it. Some little guy is gonna be a happy camper today. Yes he is. AND those donuts were cheaper. I had one when I got home. They were so fresh. I’m gonna buy that cashier a car when I win the lottery. Well, when I play the lottery to win the lottery.

This is where things went wrong. I went to put the purchases in the car and Sophie, Mrs. “let me go let me go let me go let me go”, decided that when my hands were full is definitely the right time to bolt from the car. The other two dogs sat and watched her like she was a rockstar. She went running into the parking lot while I glared at her and threatened her in a hushed tone. Things like “Oh, you are so gonna get it” and “you are the worst dog ever” came from my lips and she disappeared UNDER THE CAR.

Under the freaking dinking car.

I thought I might shake her.

Eventually she came running out like the coward she is and I tossed her into the back seat where the other dogs licked her and kissed her like she was a war hero.

Freaking dog worship.

We were happily on the way home when Prue did it. Prue has the worst gas of any dog I’ve ever known. The windows were up and the weather was chilly. Bryan and I were happy to have Sophie back in the car and be heading back to more comedy with our snacks. Prue let one that was so gross that I think I got sick in my mouth. I popped the windows down and scolded her.

Molly is the only good dog I own.

But I’ll probably let them all “go” again.

I’m a sucker.

My YMCA card had dust on it, so I blew that sucker off and decided to get back to business. Over the weekend, I’d managed to get ‘er done (yes, I just said it-go on and disown me), but after the car fiasco, I knew there wouldn’t be time to workout. My fitness guru and very good friend, Mike, has been yoda-ing me in this go-round and he’d cautioned that I needed a recovery day for my body. So, I decided that a nice, leisurely walk with Reagan would do the trick.

I don’t play favorites with walking the dogs, it’s just that Sophie tuckers out after a block and Molly is so busy sniffing and marking territory that I’d never get anywhere if I took them. Reagan is built Ford-tough. She has tiny legs and some serious muscle in that little weiner dog body of hers. She went with me today for 35 minutes without complaint. We did have some adventures, though.

-We attacked every crunchy leaf in the vicinity of our walk. As the trees are letting them drop like crazy, this amounted to some serious attacks.

-A school bus full of children waved at us.

-Reagan whined at the school bus full of children because she knows that the school bus might mean AJ is there.

-When the bus went past with no AJ, she pouted, moped, and refused to jump on crunchy leaves until I was ahead of her crunchy leaf ratio 10:1.

-We went around a park and found a small stream that I didn’t know existed.

-A car drove past us with a little dog in it that so desperately wanted to make Reagan it’s “friend” that it almost jumped out the window. I watched as it slowly drove past with the dog hanging out the window and the owner laughing so hard he almost let go of the little dog.

-We saw some beautiful fall foliage.

-A LOOSE doberman came running after Reagan. Apparently my horns came out because I yelled at it “NO!” and “YOU GO HOME YOU VERY BAD DOG!” and it literally turned and ran with its tail between it’s legs. Wussy. I must have a fierce angry face. Don’t mess with anything I believe belongs to me. I will ruin you. I don’t care if you have teeth that can tear me apart. I look really mean when I’m mad. And if I see it again I will have no problem calling animal control and letting those people pay to get that dog back. Leash laws are there for a reason.

-Reagan gave me the biggest, happiest face when she saw the front yard. Dogs can grin, you know? We both got our fitness on.

Overall, my walk today was simply breathtaking. It helped remind me why fall is my favorite season. I hope that all of you are spending some time outside just enjoying the scents and beauty of this time of year. I want to take a second and thank Mike, one more time, for the time and effort he has been putting into me. My friendships mean a lot to me and he’s holding me accountable this time and it is what I needed. I’m one of those needy, hard to be friends with people because sarcasm is my defense mechanism, so it really is hard to put up with me on a regular basis. I’m also sensitive, so I take things the wrong way a lot. To be “in charge” of anything I’m doing, especially when I’m such a type-A, has got to be a pain in the butt, so thank you, again.

Really, don’t.

I got emotional and upset and hugged my dogs even closer. The truth of the matter is that animals get the short end of the stick quite often. I have three of the most amazing creatures I have ever met and one smart aleck cat who hates me. Animals are important to me and always have been. If you’ve been reading, you saw what happened when I got attached to the chickens. This has been true for every animal I’ve ever had. Except for Francis. Anyway, I know that there are important diseases and people give money to charity all the time. They don’t want to be harassed into parting with their money for something like animal care and prevention of animal cruelty. I can’t explain to you why this is more important than health care or scientific research, except to say that when I’m sad or hurt, my animals help me more than any human I’ve ever met. They soothe me like nothing else. They understand, listen and hug in a way that I need without judgment. Sometimes, the things that seem unimportant in life are the things that get you through when you need it the most.

With that in mind, I’d like to organize a small donation in the amount of $250 for the ASPCA. This is on my heart and if you can give even $1 per person, I’d make this in no time. If you can give more, you help for those that can’t right now. I’m not giving up until I meet my goal, so the sooner I meet it, the less you have to hear about it. Also, if you have an animal that is important to you, I’d like to hear about him or her.

EDIT: I called the ASPCA, as donations were not showing on the widget, and apparently donations do not show up for TEN days. If you email me the amount donated, I will keep a running tally without divulging your name on the post. Sorry about that.

Running tally: $30

This made me laugh so hard I cried. Dogs are hysterical. Finicky little buggers.

Oh dear.

Mama would have to put the smack down on this.

However, there is a side to her that has been quite unexpected. I have mentioned before that she has unnatural talent for a dog. She frequently gets out of our fence, regardless of how often we patch it and regardless of what we do to keep her inside of it. She’s managed to break herself and the other dogs out of the kennel they stay in during the day so they may roam freely when we’re gone. This always seemed odd to me, until yesterday.

I’ve finally figured it out.

She woke me up like every other day. With kisses and love and jumping on my chest for cuddles. She immediately rolled to her belly so I could pet her. That morning, however, I was really, really tired. I started to fall asleep, again. She took her little paws and played the human equivalent of thumb wars with me.

Fine, you little brat, I thought. I have opposable thumbs and you don’t. I can win this.

I was really tired.

Don’t judge me.

Pea is not just any dog. Pea is Pea from the block. Pea is even more than that. I think Pea may be a mafioso.

She didn’t go for my thumbs or my other fingers. She took her paw and bent back my pinkie so hard I sat straight up in bed. There was NO sleep in my future. I didn’t scream, I didn’t speak. She, however, wagged her butt happily and smiled a wolfy grin. Then she looked at me and D A N C E D as if to say, “OH, you are awake. Great, now you can pet me.”

…

…

I suppose it’s better than a horse’s head in the bed.

What my title MEANT to say was that my dogs have impaired memory, but how many of you would have showed up for that particular party? Yeah, I thought so. Sometimes, it’s necessary for me to trick you to get you to show up. It’s like telling you I’m having a drinking party and then really having a dinner party with grandma. Sorry, it has to be done. I don’t want to sit at dinner alone.

Now, let me let you in on the goods. My dogs have no memory. Yours don’t either. You know they don’t. You can go to the bathroom and they think you’ve been gone for an hour and a half. Some of you may very well have been gone that long, but most of us haven’t and the dogs are thrilled! THANK GOODNESS YOU’VE RETURNED! I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE YOU AGAIN!

Times this happens to me:

When I get the mail.
When I go to the bathroom.
When I go upstairs.
When I get books from my car.
When I leave the room to make a phone call.
When I go outside to get the other dogs.
When I go to the gas station down the street and come back.

NO concept of time or memory that I was just there. In other words, they have some long-term memory (sit, stand, shake, hugs), but no short term.

This was made more clear to me last weekend. We had several men to our house. Every time the dogs would come into the room, they would bark at our friend, BS. Then they would promptly sniff him and decide “OH, I KNOW HIM” and jump on his lap and give him kisses and hugs.

Smokin’ the doobie. I’m just thankful they don’t have the munchies.

Thank you, Cute Overload. Thank you for making me NEED a fourth dog.