Dead Puppies Aren't Much Fun...

Before I start I want to say that everyone here is fine. No dead puppies. But that might only be because they're not much fun...

My brothers, uncle, cousins and I attended bible at Camp Indianhead. We had a camp counselor who introduced us to the awful, morbid, hilarious song about dead puppies. Yes, at bible camp. Ha. It is one of my favorite memories, and I wish I could remember the words. It was hilarious.

My day started out in usual fashion. We had trips to the woods for the dogs to do their duty. Then feeding time at the zoo with the normal chasing, shooing, growling and gulping of food. After all of that hoopla, the frozen water, and getting Brent off to work, I managed to sneak back to bed for a couple more winks of sleep. And man, someone is glad that I did.

I started the day thinking that it was a beautiful day in the low-mid 40's. In the late morning the sun came out and it was glorious. I tied Willie out in the front yard, and had Ches in the yard taking advantage of the quiet farm, and the sunny day. I decided since Willie had gotten stuck under the porch I would bring them in for a little break.

Willie comes in and was rambunctious. He loves to run around the couch. Around one end and under the round table on the other end. The table with the floor length cloth that he always gets stuck in. As he makes the corner for the second time I see him pull the cloth, causing the table to wobble, spilling my Diet Coke all over. Soda goes every where. Ev. Ery. Where. Insane.

I strip the cloth off, grab a few more items and head to the laundry room. In the process I let Ches out to run in the yard, sniffing and exploring. When I come in I decide to let Willie out to play again. I head to make the bed and hear a vehicle outside. As the van pulls up I step out onto the porch to see what they need. The driver steps out asking my name, getting Ches's attention as she bounds toward him barking like a raving lunatic, he lunges for the truck, and I try to wrangle her back inside. Once Ches was securely inside, he brings me my package, I sign in someone else's scribble, and we hear the most desperate yelping and yipping from under the porch. Willie is stuck. Again. 10 minutes later red-faced we're all inside and ready for a nap.

A little later in the afternoon I decide to let them out again. I go about my business, opening windows, letting in the fresh air and I realize that I cannot see Ches. So I go outside, notice Willie all tangled up, bring him in and he dashes for the back bedroom. I think to myself, "hmmm, that's odd." I go back out to get Ches and as she comes toward me there is the most horrid smell. POOP. Good heavens, she is covered. As I head in to grab paper towels to hook her to the tie out it hits me that somewhere hiding in my house is a mini-me also covered in poop. Oh. My. Heavens.

After much yelling, some gagging, crying (done by me) and a lot of shampoo they are clean and go into hiding. It was possibly the quietest afternoon I have had. I washed everything. Three times. And it still stinks like poop. I am done with poop. Seriously.

When Brent got home I told him the story and he laughed himself silly. Nice Honey. Next time I think I'll save bath time for him... lol.

This is Ches in hiding. I was drying her off and told her to go lay down. She did. And she didn't move for hours. At least she listens...

This is Willie thinking I can't see him. Even he was smart enough to hide in the corner, far away from me. (See that mark on the wall above him, that's where he gnawed the paint off the wall.)

On another note, this is a lovely spring sunset. There is water, orangy-red water, everywhere. I'm assuming it's the minerals (?) but the water runs red in these ditches. Since the ground is still frozen it all sits on top causing much mud and chaos. We will likely need our four-wheel drive to get in to the driveway by the end of the weekend.

Hope you are enjoying spring!

Have a happy day!