Perfect little angels

We knew someone important was coming for a visit when the housework commenced.
The carpets got shampooed. The ceilings got dusted. The clutter got gone. And even our sunroom got a sweepen and scrub down.
“Maybe it’s the Pope,” Lexie wondered.
“Maybe it’s the Queen,” Duchess wondered.
“Maybe it’s Cesar Millan finally coming to use his mojo on our dysfunctional pet family,” I wondered.
Turns out all three of us were wrong. But it was still some VIPs.
Cheryl hosted her prayer group from church at our house.
“My guess was the closest,” Lexie bragged.
The prayer people started arriving shortly before 7 Tuesday night.
Wes and Duchess were banished to the back bedroom with strict “NO BARK” instructions from Cheryl.
Lexie and I were allowed to hang out in our room as long as we were “Sweet little angels.” Translation: Don’t bark. Don’t jump on the door. And for heaven’s sake don’t sniff anything you shouldn’t sniff.
The only thing left to do was take a nap, which we did.
After the praying was over the people moved into the dining room to eat, which good Baptists do. As Cheryl served blueberry dump cake (we helped pick the blueberries from our backyard bushes) and lemonade, we continued to be sweet little angels -- it really was too hot to do anything else.
Besides one little peep from Duchess and a pesky fly, that probably only Cheryl noticed, the prayer meeting went smoothly.
After it was over, Cheryl commended us for our behavior and allowed things to return to normal, as will be the case until the next VIP visit.

Am I the only one who wants to have fun tonight?

The people went to see Dierks Bentley in concert on Saturday night at ASU. Here's what I know about Dierks: He sings country music. He has a dog named Jake. And the chicks dig him. The concert was an early birthday present for Cheryl. Judging from the photos, they had pretty good seats. And it looks like there was some tailgating going on before the shindig up on the ridge.

Oh Deer!

Cheryl and Wes were having a deep conversation in the kitchen the other day while she was home for lunch. I was in a deep sleep so I wasn’t paying attention to what they were talking about until I heard, “Quick. Come here.” Cheryl motioned Wes to the kitchen window from wince they spied this creature foraging the garden. “That little …,” Cheryl said, bolting for the drawer where she keeps her camera. Lexie and I started rousing from our noontime slumber due to all of the commotion. “What’s going on?” a sleepy Lexie asked. “I don’t know,” I said. “You stay here, and I’ll do some noising around.” With my ear pressed up against the sliding glass door between our sunroom and the dining room, I heard Cheryl say, “That’s why my tomato plants are broke off at the top.” Looking toward the garden I spotted a doe. “Oops,” I said, realizing because we had been sleeping on the job, there had been a security breech on the property. Technically Lexie and I are only responsible for keeping the fenced-in backyard secure, but we are usually pretty good at running off creatures they stray onto the backside of the property beyond the fence. (We even once treed a raccoon at the corner of the backyard.) Cheryl managed to take a grainy photo of the doe from the bathroom window (which really does need to be cleaned.) As I was pondering an excuse for letting a deer have her way in the garden, I heard the jingle of the side gate as Cheryl opened the latch. Lexie and I bolted out of the sunroom door toward Cheryl, ready to take a tongue-lashing. We made enough noise that the deer ran off as fast as she could. There Cheryl stood with her camera in hand disappointed that she didn’t get a better picture of the intruder. Eureka! An opportunity had presented itself, and I explained to Cheryl that we didn’t run the deer off because we knew she wanted to take a picture of it. Yea. That’s it. I don’t know if she bought it or not and upon further inspection, we couldn’t tell that the deer had done much damage in the garden that day. There is a tomato on one of the vines that is almost ripe for the picking. Lexie and I are putting wagers on who will get to it first. Cheryl or the doe.

Happy trails

The folks just got back from vacationing in Florida and Georgia. They were supposed to go to Orlando on an Army trip, but it was canceled, which meant Lexie and I had the house to ourselves for one less night than expected. Because of the change in the people’s plans, we had to switch up a few of our own plans, including starting our daily block parties with all the cool canines in the hood a day later. The only kink in our plan after the folks packed up the rented minivan and headed for the highway was our Aunt Kerri’s schedule. She took care of us while the folks were gone, and there were a few close calls when she arrived unexpectedly. It was pretty tricky ushering all the party dogs out the back gate and burying the party evidence before Kerri got out of her car, got the door unlocked and began the chore of meeting our food and water needs. Of course when she asked if we’d been good dogs, all she had to do was look into our puppy-dog eyes and see that we had. Since Duchess spent the week at Nana’s she wasn’t around to tattle on us. What happens during our backyard parties always stays in the backyard. As for the people’s trip, sounds like it was a good one. They toured landmarks associated with two of their favorite movies – Ricky Bobby at Daytona Speedway and Forrest Gump in Savannah. Sounds like they ate well, too - fresh seafood, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, sushi, ‘mater sam’iches – and only gained a few pounds. As usually, Cheryl took loads of photos. Wes, like Duchess, says enough is enough once he’s had his pictured taken one too many times, as evident in the huge frown on his face. Maybe one of these days we’ll actually get to go on vacation with them. Until then, we’ll party till the cows come home.

Cool treats

Lexie and I got a special treat on this hot dog day of summer day: ICE CREAM!

Happy B-day America!

"O, say did you see that Yankee doodle doggie born on the 4th of July" was the tune I caught Lexie singing the other day. "Are you sure that's how the song goes?" I asked her. "Of course," she said, "it's my favorite Independence Day ditty." I didn't have the heart to tell her she was running three songs into one and playing loose with the lyrics. We've had a good 4th of July weekend so far. The 8th Annual Red, White and Bluegrass Festival is going on across the river and the pickin' and grinnin' sounds have been wafting our way. The people volunteered to shuttle some festival folks around in golf carts the other night and for their hard work have been able to attend the concerts for free. The weekend also included an annual trip for the people to Boiling Springs for a reunion with Cheryl's college friends. They ate pizza, watched the kids swim and Wes learned a new game called Corn Hole. These ladies haven't aged a bit. Monday it's more 4th fun with a trip to a farm for an old fashion gathering. I just hope everyone skips the fireworks this year. I don't like things that go boom. Happy 4th!