Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Dixie's in the Doghouse

This would be the explanation I promised y'all earlier when I abandoned several twitter and facebook threads in midstream...

I decided I'd open with a picture of Dixie the night I got her, five years ago, just so you'd understand a little more why she made me crazy earlier. But in order to really set the story, you'll need to know that in the last few months a number of dogs have gone missing within a few miles of our house, and that includes the much loved Shadow, my bff's golden retriever.

There has been a lot of speculation on the culprits. Some of the suggestions made me sicker than others but all of them were unsettling, a gator, a panther, a dog-fighting ring stealing our pets and making them fight for their lives?! Horrible scenarious all, and for a brief time this afternnon, a missing Dixie Belle had me worried that she may have fallen to the same fate.

Sure, I got ahead myself. Sure, she'd only been missing for a couple hours and my vivid imagination was to blame for getting me all worked up-- but have I mentioned that Dixie is always at the door (when she isn't sleeping at the foot of our bed) and she never roams the neighborhood?!

I was frozen solid when I finally found her returning from who knows where, just a block or so from the house and not only did she not look at all contrite, she looked quite pleased with herself. Have you seen those antelopes or whatever bounding on the out door channel? That's exactly what she was doing, bounding, and I'm almost sure she was grinning. I probably went from worried to angry in .9 seconds.

But that was then and this is now. She's resting on her blanket in front of the fire now and my heart has softened, exactly like it used to do when my toddlers would make me want to pull my hair out-- until they fell asleep and looked like little angels. She is jerking my string, that dog, but I love her something crazy. And now, you know the rest of the story.



  1. This is why our girls can get in our pantry and eat pasta, cling wrap, oatmeal, grits... you name it... and I'll be hugging them and kissing their heads as I'm yelling and cleaning it up. And when my littlest girl gets out (which happens quite frequently since she can jump through the top (broken) half of our screen door on the porch, I yell until I see her and then I cover her in kisses and forgive her instantly.

    Perhaps we're sending them mixed messages?

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