The Rain Mower

I know I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. I live in a nice neighbourhood but I have some odd neighbours.

Sometimes, I feel as though I’m acting like my grandmother because I like to stand at the window and watch what the neighbours are doing. It’s an inherited trait. My mother does it too. Whenever there’s any excitement or, even, something ‘different’ going on, we all go to the window and have a peer out to see what’s going on.

This morning, for example, I noticed the lady across the road was rearranging her rubbish bins. She was taking bags out of one dustbin and putting them in another. This may not seem too odd but she was doing it while the trash collectors were literally waiting to take them from her to empty. I couldn’t figure out why she was doing this. At first I thought she’d dropped something that she didn’t want to get thrown out with the trash but from my perspective, it simply looked like she was playing “Rearrange the Trash Bags.” What was even more strange is that in the end, the Rumpke dustman took both cans and emptied them into the back of the garbage truck which null and voided her rearranging.

I don’t know that lady very well. When I first moved in, she left me a note saying how she’d been friends with the old lady who sold me my house and that she’d love to meet me. We did finally meet when she came over and made a point of telling me how half the plants in my garden had been transplanted from hers. She was nice but aside from her taking me to her church once, she’s pretty much avoided me ever since. I think this may have to do with the fact that I came home one day shortly after the church outing and discovered a neighbour had kindly unlocked my front door to put a package from UPS inside for me. Since I don’t like the idea of strangers having a key to my house, I changed the lock. I think it was Trash Rearranging Lady. I probably offended her. I’m not terribly upset about it, honestly.

The other odd occurrence last night was Dog Whisperer. He truly baffled me.

You see, when I got home from work last night, I decided to take advantage of the fact it wasn’t raining in order to cut my lawn. Lately, it’s been raining a lot and my lawn had become very unruly. I managed to get my lawn mowed just as thunder began to rumble in the sky.

Just as I finished mowing and was pushing my lawnmower back into the shed, I heard a lawnmower start up next door. Dog Whisperer was mowing his front lawn.

Since it was clearly going to rain, I thought that it might have been wiser to wait but, well, sometimes, I guess the urge to mow the lawn is strong. I did have a rather silly minor moment of guilt in wondering if, in my efforts to make my front lawn look nice, I’d made his lawn look even longer and ugly and so he had to go even it up in order to make it match the cut of my grass. We do have a shared strip that runs between our houses. I cut one side, he cuts the other. It makes it pretty obvious when one lawn has been mowed and the other hasn’t.

Of course, I realized my guilt was rather silly since it wouldn’t be the first time our lawns didn’t match and, really, I’m quite sure it had nothing to do with his sudden urgency to mow.

I left him to it and decided to attempt to grill the steak for my tacos quickly before the rain started to come down. By this time, Dog Whisperer had moved to his back yard. I had just pulled the steak off the grill and was trying to lightly grill the tortillas before it started to pour. Quickly, I shut the grill off, sheltered my food and went inside.

Dog Whisperer continued to mow. As I sat down to eat my dinner, the rain started to really come down. And yet, I could still hear the thrum of the lawnmower in Dog Whisperer’s yard. He was determined to mow, no matter what.

As I continued to eat, the rain got harder. It was that really, really heavy type of rain that actually bounces up again after it hits the pavement because of the force at which it is hitting. It’s the type of rain that stings and soaks you in less than 10 seconds.

And yet….the mowing continued. I got up to make sure Dog Whisperer hadn’t had a horrible mowing accident in which he slipped on the wet grass and managed to mow himself in half. I realize that this is an impossibility because you need to be holding the bar thing on the handle to keep the mower going and as soon as you release it, the mower dies. However, I have a dark imagination and I was concerned anyway.

Nope. He was still upright and mowing. He was soaked to the skin. He was hunched over. The rain was coming down so hard it couldn’t have been easy to see and yet….he didn’t give up.

I did worry a little about his mower. I know they’re waterproof to some degree but when it’s raining that hard, surely the water can’t be good for it. Also, wet grass is hard to cut because it clings and the suction of the mulching function causes the grass to clog up. In addition, it was lightning. Mowing the grass in a thunderstorm didn’t strike me as…sensible, per se. Finally, wet grass is slippery and I was a wee bit concerned that he might slip and accidentally cut off his foot. Hey, that one could actually happen.

Wet grass or no, he kept going.

I should commend his determination. I mean, he’s not a quitter. It’s just that…well….truth be told, it seemed a little daft. I couldn’t figure out why he was still going. I understand wanting to finish something up but if it had been me, I would have stopped the mower and waited out the rain.

Well, actually, if it had been me, I wouldn’t have started mowing after it was clearly starting to storm. When I did mow my lawn, the clouds were starting to roll in but it was clear that I had enough time.

Yet even though the rain came down with solid force and the world was soaking wet, Dog Whisperer was the Little Mower that Could. He didn’t give up. He kept mowing. When he wheeled his mower into the shed, he was so wet, I knew he was squelching. He’d abandoned his white t-shirt mid-mow and was mowing bare chested. If it had been ridiculously hot and he wanted to cool down, it might have made sense but, alas, it was actually quite chilly with the rain.

Still, he got his lawn mown and I guess that was important to him. I did notice today that his diagonal lines weren’t quite as straight as usual and were even a little wavery in patches but I suppose when the rain is coming down so hard that you can’t see, that’s bound to happen.

I admit, I probably shouldn’t have been quite so nosy but I was both fascinated and surprised at his dedication to his mowing. I’m quite glad he didn’t get struck by lightning. I’m also glad he didn’t mow over his foot. I am, however, quite baffled about his lawn mowing obsession. Perhaps all will reveal itself in time. Maybe he’s having a garden party directly after work tonight and it was the only mowing time he had. Of course, after the rain stopped last night probably would have been smarter, but what do I know?

Ah well, I’m sure he has his reasons and I’m sure I’ll never learn them. I suppose I could ask but, well, that might reveal me to be a nosy neighbour. It’s one thing to be a nosy neighbour and another thing to have people know you’re one.

And I’d rather do my lurking in secret. You learn more about your neighbours that way. Or, at least, you can watch them do some odd things.

Happy Friday!

Wet Days and Offended Dachshunds

Today has been a very wet sort of day. We started having thunderstorms around 2 a.m. I know this because I have a little dog who is not fond of thunderstorms and I awoke to find her struggling to find her way under the covers (She tends to get tangled between the sheet and the comforter and can’t figure out how to get under the sheet) while simultaneously trying to sit on my chest. Soon afterwards, I saw a flash of lightning, heard the crash of thunder and discovered that Rory had, in fact, found her way under the covers where she proceeded to burrow down by my knees which is her place of safety.

Sookie, meanwhile, leisurely wriggled herself under the covers where she spooned up against me in her favourite position. Sookie has an amazing ability to wriggle into a comfy position with very little movement. Rory, on the other hand, tends to live up to her middlename of Wrigglebottom and thrashes, wiggles and squirms her way to where she wants to go.

For the rest of the night, the storms rumbled. I woke up sporadically, as did the dogs. By the time my alarm went off, the thunderstorms had subsided but the rain continued to pour down.

It finally stopped for a while around 1 p.m. We’re supposed to have more storms tonight through tomorrow. I like a good thunderstorm and I love heavy rain. My only problem is that I’m having a wee bit of a problem with flooding in my back garden.

My area of Cincinnati is built on a spring. This means that the water table is high to begin with which is why we can’t have basements or anything. This also means it can get quite wet when it rains because, eventually, there’s nowhere to where the water can drain.

I’m a little sad about my Soggy Lake of Wetness that has taken over the back garden. I planted asparagus last year. It requires a trench to allow the ferns to grow and drop seeds. Unfortunately, this provides a nice place for water to gather, sit and then flood outwards. Since we’ve had a ton of rain already this spring, I’m pretty certain my asparagus is no more.

Also, it means I have little Ponds of Wetness all across my lawn. I watch the dogs try to dodge the Ponds as they do their business. For two dogs that enjoy getting down and dirty when they dig in the mud and who can tear through a giant puddle without thought if a squirrel appears, my two girls are decidedly finicky about rain. They don’t really like it. They do not like to get their feet wet. Being dachshunds, their tummies are quite close to the ground so, chances are, if their feet are getting wet, so are their tummies. Thus, as soon as they tear out the back door and discover the grass is soaked, they stop dead in their tracks, stare disdainfully around and then stare at me reproachfully as if the rain is my fault.

I’d expect nothing less, honestly. Dachshunds tend to take things personally. They sulk if you offend them and you must bribe them to forgive you with either lots of cuddling or with a treat. Usually, it takes both a cuddle and a treat. The problem is that you don’t always know what it is you’ve actually done. Some nights, I’m sitting on the couch with Sookie sleeping draped over the back of the couch and Rory sleeping beside me when, without prompting, Rory will sit up, give me a filthy look and then go sit in her crate in a huff.

The thing is I know I should just ignore her and let her sulk. After all, I haven’t done anything.

It’s not that easy, of course. She usually stays in her snit until I end up laying on the floor with my head in the crate whispering sweet nothings in her ear while petting her. Yes, I am embarrassed to admit this but there you have it. Captain Monkeypants often sticks her head in a dog crate. At least I’m honest.

Anyway, going back to the rain and our soggy back yard. At present, the water has drained a little since it’s not raining. This means that there are still puddles all over the place but the Soggy Lake of Wetness has drained. If I do walk across the grass, there will be squelching and splashing.

Naturally, it doesn’t help that my grass is also a little jungle like at present due to the exploded lawnmower situation. I was hoping to remedy the lawnmower situation soon but, unfortunately, silly Captain Monkeypants trusted that when UPS says a package is "out for delivery", it means it might be delivered. As I write this blog at almost 8:30 p.m., my package is to be delivered by "The End of the Day". I'm not sure how that translates in UPS time but, well, let's just say I figured it'd be here by now and it's not. If it does get here tonight, it's going to be too late to do anything but attempt to get the 100 lb box into my living room. Which is likely to be an adventure unto itself. One that is reliant on UPS. Which is to say...it might not happen. Anyway...moving on...

The sad fact is that even though I have a nice unexploded mower due to be delivered any moment now (or tomorrow, depending on how long UPS "Day" actually is), I can’t use it. I’m afraid if I subjected it to the Soggy Lake of Wetness, I might accidentally explode this mower too. I don’t want to blow up another mower especially a new one.

Thus, my poor dogs have a small reason to give me dirty looks when they have to go outside during wet times at the moment. The grass is about as tall as they are and rather than just get wet tummies, they also just get…wet.

On the plus side, it does deter them from escape attempts and from barking too much at the squirrels and bunnies that taunt the girls by showing themselves and then staying out of reach. It also means I don’t have to keep checking on them to make sure they aren’t Up to No Good because most likely, they’re in the house.

Of course, when they are in the house, they’re generally sulking because the rain means they don’t get a walk and they’re bored.

Have I mentioned that dachshunds take things personally?

Happy Wednesday!

The Comfort of Canine Companionship

Today has been a very stormy day. The skies have been blue one moment and then an ominous grey the next. We’ve already had hail and as I look outside, it seems as though the skies are preparing for more.

When it gets grey and stormy, it’s hard to believe that just a few hours before I was sitting outside with the pups at lunchtime, throwing little rocks down the sewer drain so Rory could hear them splash. She’s a smart dog. She’s got to the point where she now tries to take the stick or rock from my hand and drop it herself. I’m still not sure what her fascination is but it’s very cute.

Sometimes, I think I might find my dogs too cute. I feel like I’m one of those mothers who when they’re asked politely about their kids, whips out her phone and shows pictures. I don’t always do that with the girls but I have done it before. It’s just that they are my furry babies and we have a nice little family unit going on together. We have our routines. If we veer from our routine, the pups sulk. Both dogs have a very specific way of sulking. Rory will go in her crate and bury under a blanket. Our issue can only be resolved by my laying on my stomach, putting my head in the crate and making a fuss of her. Yes, this may seem a little silly. Yes, I stick my head in the crate while laying on my stomach more often than I’d like to admit. It does the trick and usually, Rory forgives me.

Sookie’s method of sulking is to cast me a hurt look and then sit with her back to me. She refuses to look at me and when I pet her, she pulls away. She likes to drag it out. Whatever crime I’ve commited against her to cause her to sulk is heinous enough that it takes a while for her to forgive and forget. Unlike Rory who can usually be appeased by a hug and a treat, Sookie will not surrender to the power of a treat at all. She will forgive me when she’s ready.

I have rather sensitive dogs. I find it a constant juggling act to make sure that I don’t spend too much time fussing over one of the girls and not the other. If I do, this will inevitably lead to sulking.

In the evenings, Sookie and I are tend to be quite mellow. By 9 p.m., we can both usually be found sitting on the couch either watching TV or reading. Well, I watch TV or read. Sookie is smart but she hasn’t developed the ability to read yet. That would be very cool, however.

Anyway, while we’re sitting calmly, Rory is not ready to relax. She’s still in full “play” mode. She has taken to lying on the floor, staring at me with a mix of curiousity and defiance as if to say, “What on EARTH are you doing? It’s not time to sit! You must PLAY! WITH ME!”

If I don’t pay any attention to this look, the barking begins. It starts with one little yip. Then if Sookie and I both continue to ignore her, Rory ramps up her efforts and she becomes far more persistent. Usually, I end up playing with her for a few minutes and Sookie will join me. My prime directive is actually to get the girls to play together so I can go back to my book. Sometimes this works and sometimes it doesn’t.

I probably shouldn’t give in to a dog so easily but Rory is hard to ignore. She’s a very good communicator and I can always tell what she wants. I’m not sure if that’s good or not, honestly. I love that she’s so intelligent although at times, I have to be careful. For example, if I’m not planning on taking a walk with them because it’s raining and it’s coming close to the time we normally go, I can’t say the word “Walk.” If I’m talking to someone on the phone, I have to spell the word out. Fortunately, Rory has not yet learned to spell.

It’s not that Sookie isn’t bright. She is. She’s got her own methods of being annoyingly intelligent. For example, if I’m bathing Rory and her turn is next, she’s found a new hiding place of getting up on the bed and hiding under the covers. The first time she did this, it took me a while to find her. She’s also a very good alert system and she warns me of any intruders.

It’s interesting. I probably spend far too much time with my dogs. I know them so well. They also know me. Sookie is very good at knowing when I’m feeling blue and she becomes my ‘teddy bear dog’ and likes to cuddle with me on my lap. There’s something to be said for canine companionship.

I admit, I probably talk/blog about my dogs too much. I used to get annoyed at people who were parents who did nothing but talk about their kids. Yet I can see how it’s easy to do.

Life is much more fun when you get to share it with someone or some dog. Even the small things make it entertaining.

Even when it’s something as simple as throwing rocks down a sewer drain to hear them splash.

Happy Thursday (and thanks for reading about my dogs!)

Stormy Weather...

This has been a very stormy weekend, literally. The days have started, hot and muggy with a haze of smog hanging over everything. Then as the hours have gone by, the clouds have appeared and within what seems like mere moments, the wind has started up, the thunder is rumbling and the rain is pouring.

Yesterday, the storm happened as I went into Target. It had only looked cloudy for a short while and it wasn't until I walked into the store that I realized the sky was suddenly black. Moments later, it sounded as though a million drummers were pounding on the roof as the rain started to fall heavily. The thunder could be heard rumbling as though it were inside the store. By the time I left Target, the storm was over but the car park looked as though autumn had come early with the piles of leaves that had blown in with the storm.

Today, I was luckier; I was at home. I went outside to check on the puppies when I noticed the sudden appearance of the storm clouds. The thunder was already rumbling and then the wind came. Leaves cascaded over me, around me, swirling as though they were something out of The Wizard of Oz. I half expected a house to come cascading down.

The house never came but the storm did. My silly puppies who were once so adverse to getting their precious paws wet have come a long way. They now go out into the rain, hunting any wildlife that might be trapped in the storm. Consequently, they came in soaked. I'm jumpier with the storm than they are. The loud cracks always make me jump even though I love storms. They act as though they can't hear anything.

As a result, even though the storm is over, I now have two rather wet puppies on the floor. They have this rather annoying habit of bypassing the towel that I attempt to dry them with, instead they play their favourite game of "towel" with it, having a tug-of-war that only ends when they get bored. Instead, they'd rather dry themselves on the carpet, lying on their backs and squirming and wriggling until they at least feel better even if they are still rather soggy-looking.

I don't know if we'll have any more storms tonight. I do hope so. I love a good storm. My favourite are the ones that come at night when we're supposed to be sleeping. There's nothing nicer than being in bed, listening to the sound of the crashing thunder and pouring rain.

Of course, that's a few hours away and so is the end of the weekend. It's coming fast and furious, the end of the weekend, much like its own version of a storm. It's been a quick weekend, as always filled with errands mixed with relaxation. In a way, those are the best type of weekends- not so lazy that you feel guilty for not doing anything but not so hectic that you don't feel like you had no chance to relax.

And I did get chance to relax. Rory and Sookie honoured my request to let me sleep today and they stayed curled up by my side until I was ready to get up. Crocodog did not make an appearance. I'm not so sad about that. While Crocodog is amusing, it's not so amusing on my toes which still feel like they have little teeth marks embedded in them.

Now Crocodog is on the prowl again but this time she's stalking her sister and not my toes. She just finished stalking and attacking a cicada bug outside. Those things make a dreadful noise when they're caught. Sometimes, though, Crocodog comes in useful. Last night, we had a rogue cricket in the house. I'm not girly enough to be afraid of crickets but I don't really like them. Last night's was rather large and it was in a dark spot on the carpet where the light doesn't quite reach. I couldn't make out what it was until it took me by surprise and hopped right up, buzzing my chin which had leaned down with the rest of me to see what it was. I squealed because, well, that's what I do when a bug takes me by surprised. No matter though, at the sound of my distress, Crocodog came to my rescue. She managed to corner that cricket within seconds and then...scooped it up in her mouth. I managed to get her to spit it out. It's one thing to suspect your pet eats bugs but to see it happen...well, I'd rather not. So she spat it out. The cricket was dead. I put it in the bin. Crocodog saved me from the nasty cricket.

Crocodog and her sister are currently hunting prey in the wet garden outside. This means they'll come in wet again but, at least, the storm has passed. In the meantime, the weekend has not yet finished passing and I intend to make the most of what remains. I just hope it holds another storm since it's hot out there again. We'll just have to wait and see.

Happy Monday!

Panic-Inspiring Weather Reports....

The thing with spring is that it doesn't seem to last very long. You go from winter to spring and then, suddenly, just as you're enjoying pleasant days with balmy breezes and cool nights, summer comes creeping in, far too prematurely and steals away the balm with humidity and dryness.

That's what's been happening here. For the past week, our temperatures have been in the mid to high 80's with a ton of humidity. It means that it's hot outside in the sun and with the closeness of the air, it feels even hotter. It also means that the mosquitoes are already out in full force. I'm horribly sensitive to mosquito bites. Instead of a little bump, I get a mound that sometimes swells as much as up to an inch across. That, sadly, is not an exaggeration. Last night, during my deadly nightshade genocide, I managed to accumulate no less than six bites, all now swollen and inchy. The worse thing is that I was wearing bug spray!

Still, I'm not really complaining that much. There could be worse things. Tonight, we had a major storm, probably the first really severe one we've had this year. It was the type of storm that makes you jump with the ferocity of the thunder and the lightning feels like it's coming in the windows after you.

I was afraid for the puppies just because they tend to startle at loud noises. Ironically, they didn't seem bothered by it at all. In fact, Rory went outside to find out what the noise was all about. Meanwhile, I'm in the house trying not to jump at the thunder. I like storms but I made the mistake of putting the news on. I don't think there's a quicker way to go from simple jumpiness to complete worry than watching the local weather. They interrupt regular broadcast television to bring you "Storm Event Updates". This would be fine but weatherpeople tend to be drama kings/queens. If you're feeling even the slightest bit susceptible to worry, they bring it right out of you and have you convinced that there's a tornado forming outside your window. They breed fear with their dramatic reporting of heavy rain and strong winds. Stupid me was worried we were going to have a tornado before they'd finished their reporting. I began to worry the puppies would get struck by lightning outside because the weatherman kept saying how dangerous the lightening was. Then I was afraid they might drown because we were going to have heavy flash flooding.

The moral of the story is don't listen to the weatherman. For one thing, they're never right. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't know how weathermen/women manage to keep their jobs when they're wrong so very often. This morning, the weatherman I watch on Fox 19 Stormtracker Weather informed us all that we might want to pack our lunches because the weather was going to be horrid around lunch with the storms.

At lunch, the sun was shining and there was blue skies overhead.

Of course, I actually don't watch the morning weather because Frank Marzullo and the Fox 19 Stormtracker Weather might actually be accurate. I've started to watch it because I enjoy the moments of obvious tension between Frank and the morning news host, Rob Williams. There have been several snarky interchanges between the two men where they obviously dislike one another immensely but cover it up with a smile and a tense laugh.

It's sad but I really enjoy those moments. It makes the news more fun. Sometimes, I wish one of them would just completely lose it but I highly doubt they will. Nevertheless, I do enjoy watching Frank get annoyed at Rob because Rob dared say something about the weather. Frank does NOT like it when Rob tries to give a weather forecast. That's when things get tense. For example, Rob said something like, "It's shaping up to be a nice weekend," and Frank's response was, "Oh, are you predicting weather now, Rob?" And then there was a very tense moment of silence when you could tell Rob was trying not to leap across the studio and strangle Frank.

Sometimes, I'd like to strangle Frank. His weather reporting isn't particularly accurate and he loosens his tie rather too much. Also, he's the one with phrases like, "impulses of rain" and "pop-up fog." Still, the annoying thing is that he's become part of my morning routine and being a creature of habit, it's not likely I'm going to start watching something else in the mornings. It's the channel that's set on my TV and at 6 a.m., I'm not exactly coherent enough to channel-surf.

Still, at least he did get it right that we'd have storms at some point today. The storm is over now and the world looks flattened and wet from my window. The humidity hasn't left which leads me to think the storms aren't finished yet. I do like a good storm.

As long as I don't watch the news while they're happening.

Happy Thursday.

Unwanted Help in the Garden...

Today began in a stormy manner, quite literally. As I drove to work, the rain was coming down heavily and as I settled at my desk for the day, the thunder began to crash outside. I worried a little about the puppies; they're not afraid of storms, per se but they don't like them and get a little restless. I figured they were safe in their crate and they had each other for comfort.

The day cleared up around mid-morning with only a slightly stifling humidity left as a result of the storm. I wouldn't be surprised if we have more storms tonight and tomorrow- that's the only thing that's going to break the humidity and the stickiness in the air.

Since I thought it would rain all day, I hadn't planned on working in the garden tonight. Last night, I worked like a fiend to get all my flowers planted.

Unfortunately, the puppies had other ideas about 'gardening'. While I weeded last night, I found them having surreptiously dug up one of my new perennials- a pretty yellow flower that made me happy to look at it. Fortunately, I was in time to rescue it and I replanted it, adding rocks around the base to deter digging.

I should have known that wasn't enough. While I was indoors, cleaning up a little, Rory was helping me with my gardening. By the time I went out, my yellow flower was no more. I'm sad about it. I really liked that flower. Last week, it was a dianthus that I lost due to Sookie's compulsion to dig.

I suppose I can't really be angry. I mean, they see me pulling up weeds, digging in the garden for hours. Perhaps they really thought they were helping. They can't tell the difference between a burdock and a coreopsis. I've tried to make Rory and Sookie a hole of their own in which to dig but, instead, they're returning to the site of the late yellow flower and making it's former home an even bigger hole. Perhaps I should plant another rose there, something spiky that will deter digging.

Of course, it doesn't help that the Dog Whisperer came out tonight. Lately, he's been driving me crazy by coming home from work, letting his yappy beasts out and then leaving them outside for two hours which, generally, is the two hours that I want to work in the garden after work. I don't know if he thinks it's my fault for leaving my puppies out but, as I've mentioned before, my puppies don't bark.

However, I have to admit, my puppies are rather good rabble rousers. I've watched them and they seem to take great pleasure in running up and down the fence, making the Dog Whisperer's canines chase them, barking, naturally, the whole time. My puppies, however, are silent. They just like to wind up the neighbour's dogs. Then, at other times, Sookie will sit calmly in our garden, about five feet from the fence where the Dog Whisperer's beasts are barking like mad. She will just watch them, as if knowing that she's the cause of the frenzy but not moving a muscle.

Then, Rory will pounce on her and the two will tussle around the garden, doing this weird friendly-growling thing at one another with the occasional yip. This, of course, drives the Dog Whisperer's pets rather crazy.

So, while I think that the Dog Whisperer should definitely exert some discipline over his dogs and discourage them from barking, it's not like my pups are completely innocent. They're clever little things, knowing the effect they have but being smart enough to act like little angels.

Except, of course, when they dig up my flowers. It's sort of hard for them to look like little angels when they have dirt in their coats, and on their faces and their paws are filthy from digging.

Still, as I always say, they keep life interesting.