Lothar's Luck

We got a letter from Vicki enclosing pictures taken during their Spring Break vacation at "Grandma's" ranch up in Washington. They all had such a good time, they were thinking of moving up for good. The pictures showed that Lothar (aka "Max") was loved and cared for and had plenty of opportunity for romping.

"Lothar (Max) saying hello to George and Cheyenne"

"Ever see a dog play with a horse?"

But the picture I liked best was the one showing Lothar being Lothar -- the happy galumphing big pup. A part of me regrets loosing the dog I found but another part participates in his romping by knowing that, in the end, Lothar had a happy life.

Galumphing.

.

ClenchClench, ShakeShake, TugTug

It was a bright Spring day this morning, so I decided to take Fipsie with me up to Grand Lake Hardware where I needed to buy some picture hanging wire and anything else I might discover I needed while there.

They’re pretty friendly up at Grand Lake -- at least they’ve never bitched about me bringing Fips inside, much less when I let him sniff around the plants and turf bags at the garden center. Fips, of course, likes going “into” places and is quite delighted when he’s allowed inside. So... in he trotted as the doors swung open, tail a-wagging.

I kept him on a fairly short lead, as I nosed about the widget & thingy aisle. I’ve also been needing a drill, and noticing the tool section, I walked over to look at drills. Fips trotted along.

All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a fuzzy-motion down below. Say wha ...? I looked down just in time to catch Fips pulling away from a floor-level bin with a big furry hedgehog in his maw. What in the world is a basket full of fuzzy-wuzzies doing in the tool section of a hardware store? I reached down and grabbed the hedgehog, to toss it back into the bin.

Nope.

Clench. Shake. Tug.

C’mon Fips... gimme the possum’

ClenchClench. ShakeShake. TugTug

Fii-ips.....

Nope.

He had caught the possum and there was no way in doggie-hell he was giving up his prey.

Fii-ips.....

Nope.

So that was that. The purchase decision had been made. Maybe he’d loosen up by the time we got to the check out counter.

Clench.

C’mon Fips, gimme the possum, just a min’it. I need to pay for it.

Well how would he know about that? Purchase decisions are made by clenching your jaw, not by opening your wallet. Any dog knows that.

There was no way he was letting loose of the fuzzy. For what? So Big One here could put it out of reach?

The check out girl looked at me very quizzically as I lifted Fips up to the counter, possum firmly clenched in his mouth.

“He won’t let go,” I said, “we’ll have to run em both over the scanner.”

The girl looked at me and laughed. I held Fips over the scanner and she registered the tag.

Back on the floor, Fips led the way toward the truck, trotting out very determined and happy with his new acquisition.