Do They Let Dogs Join the Army?

Poor Scratch 'n' Sniff has the doggy flu.

At least that's what the man-who-gouged-$250-out-of-me-at-10-o'clock-at-night said. Since he barely looked at Buddy and never explained the uncontrollable trembling and whimpering, I'm not convinced. All I know is: I hate seeing a suffering animal. Mike got out of bed in the night and grabbed a bath towel to tuck around Buddy, and then tucked Buddy up against him in the bed, and I loved that man more than ever.

My mother has suffered much more than I - she lost two beloved cats within a couple of weeks of each other just before Christmas. I could hardly bring myself to think about it. How we love our pets!

~~~~~

A few days later...

My hard drive has crashed and I still don't have it back from the man-who-will-gouge-lots-of-$$$-from-me. BUT, that's okay, because...

Buddy is better!

And Mike has resumed his attempts to train Buddy to salute him. Yup, thaaaat's right.

Every night we pile on the bed to pray. When Buddy hears "Amen" he hops off the bed, Flutterbug scoops him up, and Mike puts his hand to his (own) forehead and says, "Buddy...Buddy...Buddy..." (it takes a while to get that dog's attention) and salutes THE DOG.

Then Flutterbug grabs Buddy's forepaw and holds it to his forehead and salutes back.

They do this a few times, and then Mike says, "Ok, now let him try it by himself." We roar every time he says this. Every single time.

The day that dog salutes Mike, I'll eat my hat. The blue striped stocking cap with the braids down the sides.

And then I'll give David Letterman a call, of course.