Granny and the Pooch

Mom liked dogs. Sisters have, or have had, dogs for 30+ years. I don't like dogs. I don't like any animals to speak of. They are . . . .well, they are animals. I have always liked Sisters' dogs. I play with them, pet them, and then I go home. I have never allowed animals in my home. We tried cockatoos for a while, but it didn't work out.

Two years ago, Son-in-law was deployed, Daughter had had surgery that didn't go well, so she and the four children came home. The cat and the dog did not. She was lucky enough to have neighbors that took care of the animals for quite a while. Son-in-law came home to their house, but worked most of the day. Daughter and children went home to spend the summer there before they all came back.

Long story short - Daughter wanted to bring the animals back with her, because they were moving home. Dood Dod! NO cat will live in my house. I'm allergic to the little beasts, although truth to be known, I like them better than dogs.

The dog. She is AKC registered, Duchess Margaret something or another. She cost them $2,500. She's a huge English bull dog. Semper Fi. She's a dog. Dogs gross me out. I hate dogs.

Uh . . . she saved my little girl's life. She took two hits from a copperhead snake that got her instead of my baby. Damn! We have a dog.





I hate to admit that she is a good dog. She doesn't chew, bark, or relieve herself in the house. She doesn't slobber, either. Unless she and Grandpa are harrassing each other, she's usually asleep. OK, she doesn't sleep when Little Man rides her like a horse either. She mostly likes to sleep in her sunbeam that comes through the front door.


She's figured out how to get the best out of her sunbeam. She can sleep sitting up facing her sunbeam to get full toasting action for the best quality nap.


If she gets disturbed or her sunbeam moves, she has to rearrange. Strangely enough, I think I get this view more often than anyone else in the house. She loves to stretch. She does it every time she wakes up and before she goes outside.



One can only take so much sun in one's face without damaging delicate skin. Sunbeam is getting smaller though, and every particle must be enjoyed.



One day she sat at the end of the china closet, leaned up against the side, and went sound asleep. It must have been 85 degrees out! She gets so hot in her sunbeam that she pants, but refuses to move.


Sunbeam goes away every afternoon about this time. Maggie does everything possible to keep that from happening. She wrings every moment of Sunbeam contact out of the day that she can, even if it means sticking her paw clear up to the doors and smooshing her flat nose in it.

She sheds, she snores, she snuffles, grunts and farts. She stares at me while I eat. She lays on the floor by my chair in the evenings and waits. She waits to move over to lay under the table. She waits for Grandpa to come play tug-o-war. She's surprisingly gentle, but goes idiotic when company comes. She never nips or bites and she is so mild that the little one can take food away from her and she will just walk away.



Look at that face! I'm still not an animal person, but she isn't a half bad pooch.