Walking the Waggle

Walking in the city doesn't rival the beauty and adventures of walking in the country, but we do have some fun.

Yesterday it was cold. The temperature was in the high 20's, but the humidity was over 60%, making the bonechill factor somewhere in the miserable range. I know, I know, I'm a wimp, but this is supposed to be the South. Capital S.

I put two coats on Very Old Dog, and Mama Pajama's warmest coat on, and off we started. Or, more accurately, off we startled. As we arrived at the corner of our fence, up flew a ginormous red tail hawk. Lordy they grow them big in these parts! He flew up from behind the other corner of our fence, on the neighbor's side, not fifty feet from us. I looked where he had been, and I saw some horrid bloody carcass. We looked closer:

Our neighbor had recently removed the other part of the tree that fell on our house, and there was a pile of shavings from the stump grinding, next to our fence. Thereon lay the bloody carcass.

Very Old Dog, Mama Pajama and I crept closer and saw:

Oh it was too gruesome to look. But wait! It was none but our own Sssssnake toy! Eviscerated months ago by the whippets. It had been inside our fence. The hawk must have suffered a bitter disappointment. Like biting into a chocolate and expecting [insert your favorite filling - mine would be marshmallow with caramel] only to find [insert your least favorite filling - like, say, okay, I don't have a least favorite]. The big old raptor must have braved dropping into our yard to make the grab, and then must have spit the thing out just as fast as I would a chocolate covered cat turd.

I grabbed my camera and on the next walk I took a photo of Delia smelling Mr. Redtail on her Ssssnake.

And then, since I had my camera, I took some photos of (drum roll) Francie the Wonder Corkie! Here are Francie and Tracey coming out of their house.

Tracey is tall and beautiful. She is a PROFESSIONAL writer and has just started a VERY funny and highly recommended blog: Tracey Buchanan Studio. You can read more about Francie and our walks there. If she looks a little like a bag lady in this picture, remember, I look like this:

It's cold and we are walking far and wide, on our mission to pick up our dogs' poop. This mode of dress is not only appropriate to the task, we feel we are stylin'!

Here is living proof that the whippets are walking with a Hairy Dog. Granted, this is the Shark Group, consisting of Delia, Fat Charlie, and Luciano. They do attempt mini attacks if Francie Invades Their Space at any point during the walk. Invading Their Space includes, but is not limited to:

1. making eye contact with a Whippet or its Servant
2. being on the same sidewalk at the same time
3. brazenly daring to breathe the air, which everyone knows is for Whippets only.

In the photo above, do you see that brown lead, which is stretched so tight? That is Luciano, who is Special in his Head. He exercised his right to refuse to be held by the same human what was holding a Hairy Dog, photo be damned, and plastered himself to my leg.

Francie is a good sport about it all. She does an occasional fly by, breaking all of the Rules. She stares into Delia's furious eyes, zips up to her and breathes her air, and then darts out of harm's way. "Take that you snotty skinny dog! Ha! My warm hairiness laughs at you! Ha! Ha!"

The whippets on the final walk, the young 'uns, Sam I Am, Swede William, and Lindy Loo, grew up in the city and aren't so snotty. They figure since Francie walks with us, she is part of the pack, and they even are glad to see her! After only two or three months or six, they can be trusted not to eat her in our house. Good young 'uns! I wouldn't trust the three of them out in the yard with her, but they've come along way.

hug your hounds and enjoy the beautiful day