These Two

These are my dogs, Sidney (the white one) and Peggy (the black one).

Sidney came about because I wanted a turtle. Went to the pet store and found a border collie and lab mix and was overwhelmed by memories of a dog we had as a kid.  Thought she would be a great family dog.  She hates children.  She doesn't just herd them, she actually bites their toes.  I have to lock her up when people visit.  She's grown accustomed to our three kids, but she only puts up with them for the food they drop on the floor.  She knows everything we say to her, and reads our facial expressions.  Why do I keep a dog that is not kid friendly?  Because it's hard to get rid of a body that big.  And we love the old crank. We all do.  She's 7 years old and we've grown accustomed to her and her ways.  We'd be a little lost without her. Albeit, cleaner and less afraid for the neighbor children's toes.  Sidney has ridden in a police car.  She's a total whore for riding in cars, in fact.  So when she runs away...which has been a few times...you can chase after her with a jar of peanut butter or you can just calmly get your keys and go  after her with the door open. She's knows the sound of both cars and will totally forget about the whole world and all its smells if only she can get up in that front seat and ride like the wind.  She is named after Sidney Bristow the spy on the tv show Alias.

Peggy is the dog that Robb picked out.  She was the result of a bet.  I was working at the gallery on a slow, boring day.  He was out with the kids and found this puppy at one of those pet adoption events at Pet Smart.  He called to say he was in love with the puppy. I could not see the puppy and was therefore not smitten.  I told him that if I sold something that day at the gallery, we would get the puppy.  He told the kids to pray.  Three little kids in a minivan praying, "Dear Jesus, please let Mommy sell something." A scant 10 minutes later, a couple walked into the gallery, picked up my most expensive item and bought it.  It took them longer to write the check than it took them to decide to buy it.  So we have Peggy. The worlds sweetest dog.  Who has a sock fetish. She rarely chews them, she just likes to have one in her mouth. In case, you know, you wanted to chase her and try to get it. That would be fun. Except she would never disobey on purpose.  She always gives up the sock with complete compliance and respect.  The higher you raise your voice, the lower she gets to the floor. She is perhaps the best dog I've ever had in my life.  Charleigh is her biggest fan. What she lacks in manners, she makes up for in just being a sweetheart.  Sadly, she is a chicken murderer, though. She spends her days looking through the fence at the neighbor's chickens, scheming how she might chase them and bite their heads. Like socks. She would never dream of running away and cars are loud and scary.  She is named after Ronald Reagan's speech writer, Peggy Noonan.

These are my dogs. They are the reason my carpet is gross . They are the ones that chew up the fence and dig up the flowers and sneak up on the table to lick the remains of a meal.  They are the ones that sit beside me when I'm quiet and look up at me with total devotion. They are the ones that make me feel safer when Robb is away at night.  They are the ones that make me cuss and then laugh. They are as ritualistic as toddlers, not quite as demanding, but definitely as dirty.  I don't know how I got to be a dog person. But I am.

It Could be Worse

You could have your head stuck in an empty bag of dog food.

Peggy Learns "STAY"

Never before has Peggy successfully executed the command "stay."  Never, until, that is, the day I pulled out the camera.  Suddenly, she reveals her hidden talent....Dog Model.

We Are The Champions....or not.

The other day, the kids thought it was hilarious when I sang "We Are the Champions" at the top of my lungs into the pancake flipper because there were no ants in the kitchen that morning.

Charleigh informed me today, "I don't think we are the winners now, Mom." 

Some Stuff I'm Growing...

Peg and Sid

Death by Cuteness

She was at this for hours this morning. And now, I should probably wash those windows...

Puppies for Giggles

That last picture is of Peggy with my silicone oven mit. She had it in her mouth and I tried to get a picture of her with it, looking for all the world like she had giant red duck lips.

With friends like these....

oh. Help.

I have to say, the days I've had since giving up wine for Lent have been easily the most stressful, panicked, hard-driving, packed, emotionally-trying that I have had in the whole past YEAR. I'm not kidding you.

I had a brief flicker of a thought last night that I didn't have to do anything today, but that was a mistake leftover from when I made my to-do list on Monday. That was before I needed to take Chuck to have her TB test read, before somebody listed a Huge Sale with Mid-Century Modern Furniture and Depression Glass (that translates to if you call yourself a vintage seller and you don't come to this sale, you SUCK.) That was also before Peggy had diarrhea AGAIN and I checked her paper-work only to discover that she had missed her scheduled vaccination and worming (which would explain the poo). Me, miss a vaccination? That's so out of character, isn't it???

And since we were heading that way, we should drop off library books, stop at the gallery and pick up my check, so I could be home by afternoon to get some work done.

But alas. While trying to keep two crazed dogs in the van and get one little girl out of the van, the worst happened. I caught Charleigh's finger in the sliding door. There was that horrible moment when we both looked at the finger in the door and knew what was coming. And then there was the screaming and enough blood to mistake our parking spot at the Library parking garage as a crime scene. In no time, I had blood down my back, down my front, all over both our shoes...I tried to hold her hand up while rummaging through the van in search of napkins, finally coming up with a handful of Dairy Queen embossed, stiff and papery.

In this kind of situation, you just know one way or another if you need to see a doctor. I knew instantly when Vin broke his arm. I knew instantly when Mattie drank a bottle of Tylenol. I knew now. But I couldn't picture how to do it without another set of hands....somebody to drive or somebody to hold Charleigh while she sobbed. It must have been a tad confusing for Robb when I called with a "We're in the parking lot at the library and there is so much blood."

As we waited for him to arrive, Charleigh wailed, "DON'T TAKE ME TO CHURCH!"
I soothed her, "Honey, honey, why would I take you to church?"
She persisted, "Don't take me to church on Sunday!"
Confused and puzzled, I questioned, "Why not, Baby?"
"I don't want Aley to see it. It would freak her out!!!!!" She wailed uncontrollably.

I didn't laugh at that moment because I was afraid she might be in shock a little bit.

Robb took one look at it and agreed that she needed a doctor. So he hopped in the van and we sped off the the emergency room, where we were whisked in and taken care of promptly. Mental note: try to arrange your medical emergencies for Friday morning as it's pretty slow then.

After an x-ray, a 20 minute soak in betadine and peroxide, two nurses and a sleepy looking doctor, they declared she needed no stitches and her finger was not broken, but she does have a bandage roughly the size of one of those foam sports fingers.

With more stickers in hand, she was off to have her TB test checked before another McDonald's lunch with Mommy and Daddy (who still love cheeseburgers, but maybe not as much as before this week).

Robb decided that maybe sending me off to the vet to manage two dogs and a heavily bandaged kid was a bit too much, and took the aforementioned heavily bandaged kid off to his work, where she got to tell her story over and over again. She was quick to remind me that it was NOT my fault, that sometimes things just happen. "But don't do it again, Mom. "

And so the dogs got shots, the kid was brave (again), the husband was a hero, and the Old Lady, well she got home that night, just like in the old nursery rhyme.

Her Name is Peggy

There was very little debate over the naming of this dog. Robb got top choice because he will be getting up at night with this baby. He likes his women like his coffee...strong. That put a few names on the table...Elizabeth (as in Dole), Margaret (as in Thatcher) and Peggy (as in Peggy Noonan, speech writer and biographer of Ronald Reagan.)

Peggy stuck. But Margaret Thatcher isn't a bad runner up, is it?