my current and past family pets
Nellie
Since you’ve met the rest of my furry family, why not meet the whole brood? Last, but certainly not least is Nellie, my 8-year-old Greyhound. She’s my sofa zombie. Many people think this breed is hyper, but those people would be wrong. Greyhounds are also known as 45-mph couch potatoes. Continue reading
I learned recently that there is such a thing as love at first sight.
I can’t speak for Skip though. For him, I might have been just a welcomed relief to being alone. He may have simply wanted someone to hold, kiss and comfort him. Regardless, I gladly accommodated. Continue reading
The gift giver
My cat Oliver likes to bring me presents. But not the good kind like a bracelet or See’s milk chocolate Molasses Chips. No, he prefers gifts that are alive, such as the mouse he once brought to my bedroom.
It happened while I was drifting off to sleep. I felt something squirming in my pillowcase. Can you imagine? I’m sure the mouse was hiding from Oliver and I don’t blame him one bit. But talk about nightmares…
Oliver, wouldn’t you rather eat tuna?
I had a confetti-filled homecoming last night; my house was TP’ed with a mega roll of Charmin Ultra Soft toilet paper. I 
know this because I bought the paper myself. You see, the scene of the crime took place inside my home.
Upon walking through the door, I spotted the evidence strewn about like mounds of paper snow. I immediately suspected the culprit was my border collie mix, Callie. She’s a chewer and she bores easily – two rather unfortunate traits in a canine. Continue reading
There are few things of which I’ve been certain. I’m the queen of indecisiveness. Mexican or Italian for dinner? Hmm…maybe Italian? Wear the beige or blue skirt? I guess the beige? What color should we paint the house? Don’t even go there.
In fact, one decision that actually came easy for me was to adopt our buff-colored Cocker Spaniel, Tequila. I suppose, to be truthful, it wasn’t actually my decision. Knowing my history and the fact that I would waver between dogs for days, my husband picked her and I nodded in agreement and relief. Good choice, Jim.
We had good intentions from the get-go and decided not to feed her fattening table scraps. We bought the best dog food we could find and congratulated ourselves on not giving in to those pleading brown eyes under the dinner table.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 