You’re Going Down, Down, Down! -Candace Flynn-Fletcher

   No matter how hard she tries, my little dog is accident prone. The puppy was “helping” to “herd” the horses across the arena (read: follow at a distance because she’s terrified of horses) when she ran into the pedestal. The poor dog scraped an unfortunate amount of hair and skin off her eye area. The eye itself wasn’t affected, but it certainly was a scary experience for both of us. 

   The amusing aspect of this situation is what came later. The husband, attempting to lighten the mood, deadpanned that if “Savannah hadn’t thrown the pedestal at the dog, she would have been fine.” Throughout the day, the story changed. At one point Dusty lobbed the pedestal; Melody, Honey, and even Lexi eventually were culprits.

  Last night a good friend of mine had her daughter’s birthday party here, and Melody had the honor of being painted again. She didn’t mind the noisy wind outside or the chilly paint inside, or even the bath afterward. She loves the attention. Savannah resents the fact that Melody is praised more, but overall, they love the kids. I hope everyone at the party enjoyed themselves as much as I.  

   The husband finally grew tired of me wearing four pairs of pants, a pair of chaps, at least three shirts, and arctic-chill Carhartts each day. Today he bought me another heater, bringing our total to five. I’m still moving us somewhere warm after he retires, but hopefully I can be manageably more comfortable for the next t00-many-to-think-about years. 

   Smoky Joe has come back to visit a few more times. He’s discovered there’s a set hour when everyone is fed and when he comes late, he isn’t fed moist food. He must rearrange his schedule for me or he’ll be hungry. He doesn’t prefer hunger.

   It’s time to do evening chores, and I’m bringing a little dog. Perhaps this time she’ll be on the lookout for flying pedestals.

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