Dr. Doolittle would not have to translate for the animals crossing our paths last week. We understood what was being communicated without the use of words.

I spent several nights at my brother’s last week. From the moment I walked into his house, I had a new best friend, Rowdy (I forgot to ask how to spell her name, so I hope I’m not offending her). Rowdy is a miniature dachshund who only left my side once during my visit.

I knew I had a choice to sleep on one of two couches or a recliner in JP’s living room (with his new 70″ Hi-Def TV – I could tell which hairs in Al Roker’s beard were gray.) I didn’t realize that I would not be sleeping alone.

I started on the longer of the two couches – alone. Soon, Rowdy jumped on the couch at my feet and walked her way up to my chest and snuggled in, looking at me to assure my permission.

Nagged by both a sore shoulder and fear that I would roll over on the doggie, I moved to the recliner. That jump evidently wasn’t as easy for the inseam challenged Rowdy, so she stood on her hind legs and whined until I picked her up. With her in my lap in a recliner, I did not fear a roll-over accident.

Rowdy was a nester. Tuesday night I discarded a blanket for a comforter since the house was warmer than my home. Rowdy was caught priming the cover on the short couch for her by kicking and snouting it for prime canine comfort.

I knew our relationship had progressed further than I realized on the third night. I could not wait to shed my shoes and socks that night which I did by the long couch. I put on my slippers and went to the kitchen to see what was available. While I was in the other room, I heard Rowdy’s claws on the wood floors in the other room. I was thankful she was not underfoot.

Shortly after I returned to the living room and the recliner. I wondered why I had been abandoned when I looked at my shoes aligned next to the couch. Both black shoes were there, but I only saw one sock sticking out of the opening. I investigated. Sure enough – dog gone and sock gone!

I checked each room on the first floor. No Rowdy. No sock.

Not sure if my brother was still awake, I whispered his name, but there was no response.

I decided that Rowdy was moving our relationship to the next level (what is after sleeping together?) The lyrics from the Oklahoma! song People Will Say We’re in Love ran through my head (“Don’t start collecting things, give me my rose and my glove.”)

About a half hour later, I heard him using the bathroom.



“I mysteriously seem to be missing a sock.”


“Any idea where it might be?”

“Under my bed.”


Less than a minute later brother was dangling a familiar foot covering in front of my face, “Does it look anything like this.”

“No, it looks exactly like that.”

The laundry this week resulted in all white socks matching up with another, so Rowdy must not have socked anything away.

While I was off playing with dogs (Rowdy has a quiet sister, Addie), Husband had his own animal adventures.

He went out the back door to discover the lid to the garbage can was across the stoop by the grill. That was unusual, so he walked a couple of steps around the corner near the grill to discover a squirrel on the side of the house – with thrown out pizza in its mouth (not a usual occurrence around here . Husband said that the squirrel scampered up on the roof where it stood showing off its treasure.

Hearing this story, I asked if Husband had gotten a picture. He said that had happened too fast for the opportunity, but he now had a video camera set up with a motion detector. The only thing he recorded was a squirrel running around the top of the garbage can trying everything it could think of to get the lid off.

Maybe we should keep the lid on this entire week. We really don’t want to admit we’ve been outwitted by an animal