Friday night at Bad Dog Central

The kids left today. Mr. Abby took them to the airport, where they had to check in at 0600. Reverse planning lead to a 0420 wake up. Ick. After they left, I went back to bed for a couple of hours. That leaves us now with him knocked out in bed and me puttering around with the dogs.

I'd like to throw out there that because there are no short people in my house anymore, I am shirtless and the TV is off.

Jack recently found a stick in the yard. Actually, it looks like a one-by two stake about 16 inches long. He likes it. It's his new toy. He carries it, rolls with it, chews on it, and just generally thinks it's about the coolest thing on dry land.

(please spare me the horror stories about dogs and splinters - I know. But it's a big mean scary world out there, and much as I do not require children to wear elbow pads to walk on sidewalks, I do not take sticks away from dogs)

Anyway. Because they were alone today for the first time in weeks, I let him bring the stick in the house this morning in the vague hope it would keep him from chewing things up. This failed miserably (one bamboo rug, one megapack of pipe cleaners and two boxes of .223 ammo), but that's not the point of the story.

While I was out having a smoke, Casey apparently decided it was about time she reasserted her Alpha Canine status. I walked back in from the garage to find both big dogs lying in the entryway. She had one front paw on his stick, casually, and he was staring at it like a starving guy eyeballing a pork chop.

She just walked through the house like a queen. Carrying the stick. He was inches behind her. Then she picked a fleece dog bed (yes, there are two in the living room, and there are two in the bedroom), flopped down, and proceeded to gnaw loudly on the stick. While he watched, miserable.

Heh. You go, old dog.