And we think we have bad days....

Spike vs. The Skunk

It was a dark night. Not many stars out and Spike decided he needed one last trip outside before he settled down at night. Daddy H. opened the back door and started outside with Spike. Part way down the steps, a skunk lay in hiding, waiting for its pray.

You've all heard the expression "Ready, aim, fire!" Well, Mr. Skunk sure took that saying to heart that night. Daddy H. tried to hurry and get back in the house, but not in time. Spike was hit. So Spike did what many of us do when faced with adversity. We RUN!

The problem is he ran right back into the house. Right through the sorted laundry waiting to be washed. So Mommy and Daddy H. had to gather him up and get him out of there pretty fast. They checked outside for the skunk (not to worry, the damage was done, he was half way to Tahiti by that time). So poor old stinky Spike was confined to his outside pen.

The family had to leave the house for the night to let it air out. Laundromats were hit early the next morning to fumigate the clothing Spike had so lovely shared his scent with.

One thing you need to understand is that Spike is a house dog. And for all intents and purposes he thinks he's human except he can't use the inside bathrooms. This is a dog who is never left out for long and is only outside when somebody is home to let him back in.

You can imagine the thoughts going through his mind.

"Hey, you guys! Did somebody forget me?"

"Mom, wait! Where are you going? I still outside."

"I can't believe they left me"

"What will I do if the creature comes pack with his poisonous venom. How will I survive?"

As the night wore on and daylight came, he had to be worried. Mommy was off doing the laundry and buying the supplies needed to wash him squeaky clean. Being his favorite Mamaw, I felt it would be good for him if I went to visit. Boy, I should never have done that.

Have you ever went to visit a grandchild and when it comes time to leave and they don't get to go with you and they turn those sad eyes on you with the pitiful expressions? Well, I am here to tell you that granddogs can do the same thing. He has it down to a fine art. He still stunk to high heaven and I couldn't even pet him because I didn't want the smell on me. I did check to make sure he still had food and water. But the 'poor, pitiful me' look almost did me in.

I got in my car and drove home, wanting to cry for leaving him behind. All's well that ends well. Thanks to peroxide, baking soda, and detergent, Spike is squeaky clean and good smelling.

I'm sure they will all look back and chuckle on this one day - well maybe not Mommy who got stuck with the clean up. Messy diapers and spit up don't look so bad to her now.

Brothers

Many of you have heard me talk about my sister and have seen pictures of us growing up. But it occurred to me that I have not shared pictures of my brothers. I was the second child in a line of four. When I was 2 years and 4 months, Mom brought my brother Jack home from the hospital. I do have early memories of him. I can even describe the way the living room was laid out the day he came home. Mom says I'm right, even though she can't figure out how I knew. We don't have any pictures of the day he came home. But I remember it fondly. Jack and I were very close growing up. Me and Rachel would bribe him to play house with us. Then I would play cars and trucks with him. He taught me how to play marbles, baseball, and kick ball. We had invisible pretend ponies as pets and we would spend literally hours "romping and riding" are horses around the yard and up and down the hills at home.

The year I was turning 10, Mom surprised us with a new addition to the family, my baby brother Andy. We were so excited. Here was our very own baby doll we could help dress and feed. Back then, Mom had a wringer washer and hang clothes on the line. Let me tell you, the joy of playing with our own baby wore off fast when we had to sit on the couch and help fold all those cloth diapers. But we still love our baby brother.

When he was 6 and I was 16, I started taking him with me everywhere I went. It's amazing how easy it was to get the family car when you volunteer to take the baby with you.

When we were young, me and Rachel were the "big" sisters. Something happened along the way. I'm only 5' and Rachel's around 5'2 or 5'3, but both of my brothers are pretty close to 6 feet.

When I go in and see the family and those tall, muscled, good looking men give me a hug, it's hard to believe they are the same little boys I used to love on and play with.