Zipping through the trees

Except for the scales that the V.E.T. lifts me up on when I go for my annual wellness check-up, I have never been very far off the ground. It’s safe to say, though, that I’m a scardy cat when it comes to heights. Apparently Cheryl is not. This past week during her first day of Leadership Burke, she got to fly through the trees at Catawba Meadows Park. It was one of the activities listed under “team building” on the first day’s agenda. The video is of the longest zip starting from only about 50 feet off the ground.

Ruff. Ruff.

A few years ago after Lexie overheard a conversation the people were having, she came to me and said, “Guess what I heard? We are getting a new ruff.”
I questioned her, “A new ruff. What does that mean? Is something wrong with my ruff? Are they replacing it with a new one? Are we getting another dog that goes ‘ruff’?”
She said, “I don’t know, that’s just what I heard.”
One year went by. Two years went by. Almost three years went by, and no one got a new ruff, and we didn’t hear anything else about a new ruff. I actually had almost forgotten about it.
Then at 6:22 a.m. Thursday morning a convoy of work trucks and worker men converged on our front lawn, backed a dump truck up to the side of the house, extended ladders into the early morning sky and hopped up on the house with hammers.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, said Lexie.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, said Duchess.
Ruff. Ruff. Ruff. Ruff, Ruff, said me.
Meanwhile, the people, seemingly oblivious to men on top of our house, stayed in the bed.
“Hello,” I cried under Wes and Cheryl’s bedroom window. “Get out here quick.”
Finally 30 minutes later, we heard Wes rustling around in the kitchen and then a sleepy-eyed Cheryl emerged from inside the house.
“What’s going on, Bax?” she asked.
“You didn’t hear the pitter patter of strange men on the house?” I asked back.
“Everything’s OK, guys, we are just getting a new roof today,” she said.
“A new ruff?” Lexie asked.
“No, a new roof,” Cheryl said.
The light bulb came on in my head faster then it came on in Lexie’s.
“So, did a conversation about a new roof first come up about two and a half years ago?” I asked.
“Something like that,” Cheryl said, “We’ve been putting it off for a few years now and are finally getting around to it.”
She went on to explain that for our safety we needed to be confined to the sunroom while the roofers were working and that if they happened to leave one of the gates open, we were not allowed to run out.
“They are supposed to clean up when they are done,” Cheryl said, “but please don’t eat any shingle pieces they may leave behind.”
While Lexie will put anything in her mouth, I vowed not to get any shingles. It might mess up my ruff.