The Pack

For as long as I can remember, I've had dogs. Ok, there was that short period of time in my 20s when I had cats, but I've sworn never to speak of it. At first, my dogs were beagles or beagle-mix. Now? Not so much.

There's Miranda, the almost 5-year old bloodhound. Bloods are goofy and are the clowns of the canine world. With that face, the wrinkles, the long ears and lips so big they have their own name, you can see why. They are ruled by their nose and by their ability to sleep anywhere, even standing up. Life is entertaining with Miranda round - she used to hide and sleep under the bed. Then her ass got too big and she broke the bedframe.

The 7-year old Saint Bernard is Harley Earl. He has a wicked sense of humor, and lives to play jokes on humans and fellow dogs alike. He's in charge of the house, but he's too lazy to keep tabs on everyone so he delegates. Unless there's a thunderstorm. Then he's out in the middle of the yard, barking his fool head off at the thunder. I swear he thinks it's another big dog, there to challenge him for pack leadership.

Elwood is the crazy 11-year old Black and Tan Coonhound. No, seriously. He's crazy. He hears voices. It will be 10pm, everyone asleep and quiet, and he'll bolt off the couch and run outside howling. Well, he'll start outside. He always stops and looks back to make sure his posse is following him. If they won't, he slinks back to the couch and grumbles for 30 minutes about how unfair life is.

Smallest of the group is, you guessed it, a beagle-Treeing Walker mix. Sally is 13 years old and rules from her kennel. The door is always open so she can meander as she wants, but she will literally spend 23 hours a day in her kennel. Considering the size/weight difference between her and the other dogs, I don't blame her.

Bark is this half-year's visitor. He's a 2-year old Golden Retriever, staying here while his daddy is in Iraq. Bark is... different. He fetches leaves. Usually those you've just raked up and he feels they should go back to where they were before. He has an unholy fascination with squeakers, and my yard is littered with flattened and de-stuffed toys that Bark has performed surgery on. He's also taught Miranda that the bathroom contains many fascinating items, such as toilet paper. A roll left out (or put on the holder even) is a roll that is no longer usable due to slime.

These canines, plus the Spousal Unit, are who I share my life with. So fasten your seat belts; it's going to be a bumpy ride.