We just got back from camping on the Gulf Coast. We had fun and I learned a couple of things. First of all, if you think you might fall and bust your fanny, carry your extra glasses. I was standing behind the trailer trying to wave Bud in as he backed the trailer up and Buzzy wrapped me in his leash, plopping me flat on my keester. I fell flat, banging right on my glasses. I hadn’t gotten in Bud’s line of vision yet, so he thought I’d wandered off, as I am prone to do. He continued backing up, but fortunately I was able to get out of the way before he flattened me.
Although the fall did kill my glasses, I escaped. I was worried whether I would have a black eye, but luckily I didn’t. If I had, I would have to have blacked both Bud’s eyes or I would have been ashamed to be seen when we met friends later. I was able to get the frames replaced, using the same lenses. What a relief. I had dreaded trying to get by with just reading glasses till I could get new ones made. I will never go off without a spare again.
Buzzy had a fine time camping as always. We patrolled the camp several times a day. He got to meet new dogs, see an alligator, smell the Gulf, roll in some different flavors of mud, walk on the beach, and sleep in the camper. His favorite part of camping is sitting on the bench seat between us at meals. He doesn’t get a place at the table at home.
Mother and BuzzyMy son John lives to torment my mother. Buzzy, our American Eskimo Dog sheds incessantly, making up vacuum every day to stay ahead of him. One day my husband Bud noticed a big paper bag on the mantle stuff full of Buzzy’s combings, hair pulled from his brush, and hair swept from the floor. Amazed, Bud asked, “What in the world is this bag of dog hair doing up here?”
Mother chimed in, “Oh, that’s Buzzy’s hair I saved up for your sweater.”
This was the first Bud had heard of his dog hair sweater. He thought maybe Mother had finally come unhinged. “What dog hair sweater?”
“The one you’re going to get the woman at work to make for you out of Buzzy’s hair.” Mother thought Bud was losing it. “John told me to be careful to gather up all the hair I could find every time I came over so that woman you work with can spin it and make it into a sweater for you. How long do you think it will take to get enough?”
Poor Bud had to break her heart. “John’s been pulling your leg, again. There ain’t gonna be no dog hair sweater.”
My son, looking his best.
Photo of hair I brushed out of Buzzy this morning, pictured next to pint jar.
I spent most of the summer away from home this year. My friend Ann, the charming lady in the background above was my gracious host. One morning, she asked me if I’d like to pay a visit to her favorite resale shop. She’d found some bargains and had to go back with the cash to pay for them It was a great sale; everything was five dollars. In fact, earlier that day, she had gotten a pair of Gucci Loafers and the gorgeous leather bag you see me clutching above. Jackson, her little dog was snuggled in the bag for the duration. I should have known from the worried look on his face that Ann might be plotting to rid herself of her summer-long guest. The store was packed. Women were trying on clothes in the aisles. One customer’s skirt was sold while she was busy trying on another in the aisle. As Ann rifled the racks hoping for one last bargain, I held Jackson and her purse, moving to stand in a breeze near the front door. The shop owner, recognizing the beautiful bag Ann had bought there just that morning, called out to warn her I was stealing her bag. Not realizing who she was talking to, I stood there like a dope, looking around for the purse thief. In a minute or two, Ann realized what was going on and saved me from arrest. It’s a good thing I had Jackson concealed on my person, or she might have just let them haul me off.
Life according to Buzzy:
Dog poop is precious. Crazy people run behind dogs to collect it in small blue bags.
Pizza delivery people come to steal our pizza. The house must be defended at all costs. Continue reading