I have been very busy these last few weeks. Actually, my family has been very busy, and I have had to be more flexible in my everyday schedule to keep up with them.  I should have known that something was up, because I noticed She-Who-Is-In-Charge was busy writing things in those boxes on Her calendar that hangs on the wall in the kitchen.

Little by little She was filling up the days and weeks with events and times and things She needed to complete. She is a good planner, likes to see things written down so that She can keep everyone up to speed and ready to go with the flow. The first thing that happened that changed my daily schedule was my Boy’s graduation from college.

Even though I wanted to, I didn’t get to go in the car with them; but they talked to me about what was going to happen for weeks ahead to prepare me for what it was going to be like on the day when they were going to go and see him get something they called his diploma. I know they were very excited, bought some fancy clothes for the event. 

The Big Grownup took me for lots of extra walks around our neighborhood that special morning, talked to me about what the day was going to bring, warned me that I would have to behave myself while they were away and I was left alone with Sam and Max in the house. I remember that it was a very overcast day that day, and that our phone kept ringing and She kept telling people not to worry if they couldn’t make the ceremony, that She would take lots of pictures. 

Off they went, the two of them, all dressed up, coats and umbrellas thrown over their arms, their cell phones and digital cameras fully charged, and their tickets tucked into their pockets. I waited a long time for them to come home, such a long time that it had turned dark outside, and I didn’t have anything for supper except dog food in my dish.

I am used to something home-cooked every night, and my stomach was growling by the time they walked through the door and kissed me hello. The Big Grownup clicked me onto my leash and took me for a walk before he even put down his coat, while She went to find Sam and Max to see how they were doing and give them their long overdue fancy feast supper.

I took the Big Grownup for a long trek along the streets of our neighborhood, partly to make up for all the fresh air I missed while I was cooped up indoors, as well as to stretch out my over-rested muscles I had kept mostly curled up on the couch while I waited for my family’s return. Everything was wet along our path, and the Big Grownup was wearing his shiny shoes, so we had to step very carefully so he wouldn’t slip or get his shoes dirty.

I expected to find the Boy’s car in our driveway when we finished our wandering, but when we reached home the only car there was our regular one. She-Who-Is-In-Charge had changed Her outfit when we came back in the house, was wearing Her flip-flop shoes and comfortable clothes to greet us on our return. The Big Grownup changed too, untied that thing he wears around his neck, unbuttoned His fancy white shirt with the buttons on the collar, slipped off his shiny belt and rolled it up and put it away in his drawer.

Then he went over to the stove and started my home-cooked supper, made one of my favorite hamburger dishes that is one of his specialties. They talked while my supper was cooking, retraced their day with the Boy. I got to listen to them while I lay on the floor by the stove, their conversation mixed in with the aroma of my soon-to-be-served supper.

Their story was funny to me, since their conversation began with how lucky they were to have seats under the tent, and I know for a fact that She-Who-Is-In-Charge does not like camping so She’d never go in a tent under any circumstances. Why they would go in a tent on this day confused me for sure. Then they talked about meeting up with the Girl and her guy who also wanted to see the Boy graduate, remarked about how windy and cloudy the day was, how worried they were about the threat of rain for most of the day, discussed where each of them thought the best place was at the ceremony to stand and wait to take pictures of the Boy with his degree in his hand, commented about the hundreds of parents of all the other students and how proud everyone was to be sharing this day with their graduate.

To my surprise I found out that they had already had dinner before they came home, had taken the Boy, the Girl and her guy, and some other friends to a fancy restaurant near the Boy’s college to eat together and enjoy this special event. I was surprised to hear they had already eaten, mostly because they didn’t bring me back their leftovers, something they always do when they eat someplace else besides home.

Once the Big Grownup had served up my supper, She-Who-Is-In-Charge told him She was going to download Her camera, whatever that means. Next thing I knew, pictures of the Boy were lit up on the computer screen, and we all watched together as different shots of him came up on the monitor. He was wearing a black robe with a gold cord around his shoulders, with a funny-looking flat hat sitting on his head, a black tassel hanging off to one side. I have to admit that he looked pretty handsome, despite this silly get-up of his that he was wearing. He was smiling in all of these pictures, this Boy of ours, and I noticed that it made them smile to see him on the screen. And so it made me smile to look at this happy family of mine.

I’ll admit it was a long day for me to be home all alone, but in the end it was worth it to see all the joy in their faces, and feel it in my heart. I know. Lucky me.

I’ve noticed over the past few weeks that the light has been changing in and around our house. Nothing very drastic, mind you, but changes none the less, in very itty-bitty ways. I’ve tried to pay attention, to see if there might be an explanation for my discovery, but so far nothing has turned up. Our schedule hasn’t changed, and Her alarm clock is still going off at the usual time on weekday mornings.

The news people who talk to Her as She makes Her morning coffee are the same ones we watch all the time. Cars that I am used to hearing come and go on our street are still coming and going as they usually do. It’s just that it appears to be brighter and lighter as these everyday things happen in our day. I am a creature of habit, and to me, timing is everything; so when something changes ever so slightly, I notice. And this daylight thing has even affected the humans who live with me. How exactly have things changed? Well, for instance, I have noticed that She-Who-Is-In-Charge has been playing with the curtains on our windows, and the Big Grownup has been playing with the timing of my walks around our backyard, all because of the light.

She is pretty picky about Her curtains, insists on closing them most of the time, blocking out the dark and the cold temperatures that are just outside the panes of glass. Sometimes the Big Grownup has been unhappy about the cotton wall that She puts up between the inside and the outside of our house, but he gives in and lets Her have Her way anyway. Occasionally when She is gone on Her way to Her day, he will slip around the house ever so quietly and open up the view without Her permission, only to close it just before She comes back in our door.

But now the curtain game is different. Not only does She open up the view from our front windows, She often flips open the blinds as well, pulls the cord and lets them roll to the top of the window frame. The darkness that I am used to, our front yard usually shadowed so early in the morning, is gone now. In its place is delightful sunlight, and it almost blinds my eyes as I peer outside to watch the neighbors.

I’ve noticed She is happier too, seems to enjoy the beginning of each brand new day more than She does when the curtains stay closed. The Big Grownup is happier as well, is more likely to take me outside earlier, and stays outside longer as the sun lifts itself into the sky. He does not put his jacket on anymore before we leave our back door, grabs his phone instead and drops it into his pocket in case he gets a call while we are playing around.

In this new light of day, everything seems more interesting, and I like to take my time to sniff things out and find my way. Sometimes I just sit down right where I feel like it, even if it’s in the middle of the street, take some time to let the sun warm my brindled fur while I am watching the day go by. The Big Grownup doesn’t seem to mind, lights his pipe and talks to me about all the things sprouting up in our path, introduces me to silly-sounding words like violets, begonias, and pachysandra.

Instead of heading back indoors because it is hard to see very many interesting things in the dark, we now get to meander along at our own pace, visit each nook and cranny along the street and neighbor’s lawns that I can find with my brindled snout. Occasionally I have even managed to scare up a real live bunny or a white-tailed deer as we enjoy the added daylight in our back yard.

He warns me every so often to mind my “p’s and q’s”, says he is worried I might poke my nose in the wrong place and scare up something he refers to as a skunk. This added light makes everything seem more exciting, from watching the clickety-clacks that scamper up the trees when they hear me coming, to chasing the robins that flit from branch to branch looking for something to eat.

Nighttime arrives later every day as well, which means it is still light out after we finish dinner. So I get to go out for a walk later each night and revisit my neighbors long past my regular bedtime, which used to be right after I finished my supper.

Now I can watch the kids playing around in the street, some of them on bikes, others on funny shoes with wheels on the bottom before I have to turn in for the night. I can tell the kids like this new outdoor lighting arrangement as much as I do, seem to be happy just hanging around outside before their bedtime, too. Maybe one of these nights all of us can stay out late together, maybe even plan a sleepover, pitch a tent and wait for sunrise? I know the Big Grownup would like to join me. I’ll let you know how it goes!

He is a little less of a time-to-myself person. He enjoys the outdoors almost as much as I do, and I never have a problem encouraging him to take a walk with me any time of the day or night. But he is all business. Once our walk is done, that is all there is to it. He is not in the mood most days to just walk out of the house without a plan for going back inside, nor is he ready for ignoring his cell phone and any calls that might come in while we are out. While he enjoys listening for the turkeys, or searching for and finding the telltale trail of prints that the deer family has left in their wake, at some point he is ready to say so long to the outside world so that he can go back and sit down in his indoor virtual office.

That’s not exactly how She operates. Since She is out of our house for most of the day, She comes home pretty tired, is always ready to plop herself down in a chair and rest. She has even been known to accidentally close Her eyes for a few minutes while She is sitting, only to find out that when Her eyes open wide again two hours have gone by unaccounted for.Where the Big Grownup is a willing companion, she is more of a “Leave me alone for ten minutes I need some time to regroup” girl, which really means She is done for the day.

Since I like to be “up and at ‘em” all day every day, I have taken it as a personal Plott Hound goal to shake the both of them up a bit, get them moving along to my way of thinking. Every day I play a game of tag with them, a simple ring-around-the-house game to get their heart rates moving and their blood pressure regulated. I have to use props for this game, otherwise they will not take the bait, do not see the reason why they should follow me around from room to room running to keep up with me. Sometimes I use toys of my own to catch their playful side, but most times I have to take something of theirs that they really want back to get them off and running.

I have a couple of great toys, both made out of tennis balls and both with built in squeakers that beep when I chew down on the right place that I like to use when I’m getting this little game of ‘chase me’ off to a running start. She calls them my “beep-beeps”, and that’s fine with me, even though the word sounds pretty silly. Anyway, I wait until no one is paying any attention to me, and grab one of these beeping toys which I then tap them with from one side or the other. I never let them see me coming, because I don’t want to alert them and foil my plan.

Usually I start with Her, because She is the most playful, will usually put down what She is doing to give me a few minutes of play. I run around the house with my toy in my snout, one eye in front of me and one eye behind, watching to see if She is going to keep up. Sometimes She is pretty fast, manages to catch up with me and grab the beep-beep right out of my mouth, which means I have to turn around quick and chase Her. When She tires, I can always count on Her to toss the beeping target into the air, giving me the opportunity to try and catch it before it hits the ground. Nine times out of ten I am successful, which brings about a round of applause and kisses along my brindled snout to tell me I did a great job.

Sometimes She gets the Big Grownup to join our game, and together they “double-team” me as I run from one room to another with one or the other of them giving me chase. If She is feeling particularly silly, She will scrunch Herself next to the refrigerator as I run around the corner, thinking I don’t know where She is, as She plans on how to spring Herself back into play using the element of surprise. The Big Grownup likes this part of our game best, because he thinks he knows more than I do, has the upper hand in our little game of chase.

I will say that once or twice they have managed to startle me, catch me unawares-but our house is small and that twist on the game only works every so often. The game usually comes to a close as soon as I give in and get a drink, mostly because She has better things to get done and the Big Grownup wants to get back to the office. Some day they will thank me, this little adult family of mine. Thanks to me, they get their daily exercise, come by their cardio workout without even thinking about it. And me? I get to have some fun, while at the same time have their undivided attention all to myself.

 Lucky me.

Thoughts of Cody are an every day occurrence, memories that will always and forever remain close in our hearts. His name still slips from our lips when we least expect it, our words triggered by something we see around the house or in the neighborhood or even on television that suddenly and unexpectedly remind us of him. Every once in a while, if one of us is feeling especially brave, we will recall “Cody moments” to one another on purpose, trust that the other person will remember the same thing we are thinking about him as well. Quite often, unexpected tears come from these memory triggers, like when we walk past our backyard “Cody Garden” and stop to check on his Christmas tree to see how it’s growing, remembering how much he enjoyed the lights and the ornaments and having the holidays to share with the whole family under the same roof at the same time. Or when one of us stops to brush away the fallen leaves that clutter the pachysandra we planted to mark the garden borders, knowing how much Cody enjoyed surveying his backyard perimeters, loved to stop and smell the flowers.

Lucky for us, we have a sweet girl in town that is helping us make new memories, playing what we like to call “Crocket Shenanigans”. Having her around has been an adventure for sure. Crocket, in her own Tennessee Plott Hound way, is a memory keeper for Cody. Many things that she does around the house are similar if not the same to what Cody used to do too.  For instance, Cody used to scratch the rug before he decided to lie down, sometimes taking three or four minutes to attain the desired effect he wanted on the carpet fibers. Crocket does the very same thing, usually in the same spot in the living room where Cody chose to spend most of his time sleeping. She will scratch, scratch, scratch over and over again until the lines in the carpet all go in the correct direction to her liking, her personal preference that not all of them are going in the same way but rather left, right, and straight up and down. Like Cody did before her, the carpet scratching routine is then followed by a full-body turn, turn, turn maneuver, the entire process taking up to five minutes before it is completed to her brindled satisfaction.

The difference between the two of them is that Cody stayed in one place for a while, where Crocket is all about get-up-and-go. She is a “lean-mean-moving machine”, keeps us guessing about where we’re going to find her next. You never know whether you are going to find her curled up on the couch, slouched across my lap, or lying in the kitchen waiting for the Big Grownup to finish making dinner. Then again, you might find her tucked under the Big Grownup’s virtual office desk, or under the bureau in the dining room grabbing some unnoticed “Z’s”. The Big Grownup tells me not to worry about her whereabouts, because when you can’t find her, she’s usually under your feet, and I have found that most often to be true. She is where we are, no matter what.

 Like Cody, Crocket loves to stand up against the window sill in the living room, peruse the comings and goings in our front yard every chance she gets. The difference is that she is not much of a barker, but rather a tail-swisher, her C-shaped “extension” flipping back and forth as soon as she spots someone out and about, her silent way of asking them if she can come outside and play too. She is a busybody and a multi-tasker, frequently stands in the window watching the neighbors while at the same time holding a toy or a bone in her mouth that she’s been chewing; and when I return home at the end of my day I often find a collection of these same items stacked in a pile on the windowsill, long forgotten, right where she left them for safekeeping. She is a “bundle of busy”, that is for sure. And somehow this little brindled Tennessee Plott Hound knows just when I am at my saddest, can tell when I have dropped into that low point in my everyday where the tears still hide for Cody; and that’s when she does something in her own magical way that brings me back, makes me laugh, reminds me that she is here to love us for him, help us hold his memories in his place. Lucky me.

Stay tuned.

Because I am used to my everyday at work agenda, the one where I leave the two of them home alone to take care of one another while I’m away, I guess I really haven’t taken the time before now to figure out what it is they do here when I am not with them.

My regular routine calls for me to disappear out the back door five days a week on my way to my day, to regroup later in the afternoon with my two stay-at-home housemates. I am used to closing out my everydays with the three of us sitting down together having dinner at our kitchen counter, our conversation shifting between what went on in my day with what went on in theirs.

Being home with them “24/7” is also much different from the at home schedule that the three of us keep on weekends. Ever since the Boy left for college, the Big Grownup and I have made it a point on weekends to try and spend some “quality time” with one another, have taken to going out and having breakfast, just the two of us, before we head out to the grocery store and complete other typical errands most other families do on their weekend schedule as well.

Crocket is accustomed to our Saturday departure, curls up on the couch and patiently waits for our return home, because she knows she will find something we have purchased just for her waiting on the bottom of one of our grocery bags. Like our beloved Cody, she purposefully noses through each and every paper and plastic sack we carry through the back door, dives into each “goody bag” sniffing and sniffing around until she comes up with her treasure. Once she has secured her reward, she is happy for the rest of the day, needs little companionship because she is “busy” chewing. That is the Crocket I have come to know.

That is not the Crocket I lived with this week. Come to find out, Crocket is a busy girl who keeps the Big Grownup on his toes day in and day out in this virtual office we also call home. Now that I have seen first hand what their day is like, I understand why the two of them are so tired by the time I get home. (I was tired just watching them!)

Crocket is a rise-and-shine Tennessee Plott Hound, insisted on keeping up her routine even though I was on vacation, and only let the Big Grownup sleep in until 6 a.m. one morning rather than rousing everyone before our usual work week 5 a.m. roll call. The two of them got up together every morning, kindly closed my bedroom door so that they wouldn’t wake me with their comings and goings as each of their days unfolded.

They know one another inside out, can actually read the other’s mind and anticipate what the other is going to do. I was the spectator to their game, got to watch from the sidelines and occasionally was included in their “at work” dance. I enjoyed watching the two of them in the comfort of my robe and pajamas, sipping on my second (or third!) cup of coffee while they were out and about gallivanting around in our quiet neighborhood.

They hardly paid any attention to me as I got myself going, kept up their schedule as I worked on setting mine. Most days I was just getting out of the shower while they were already on their third walk of the day, the trip the Big Grownup refers to as Crocket’s recreational stroll. I didn’t realize until this week that each of Crocket’s walks had different purposes, but I know that now. Her recreational walk has no purpose but to take things slow and enjoy the great outdoors.

I had the pleasure of being dressed and ready to accompany the two of them during a few of these trips, and it amazes me what you can see and hear when you are just out for the sake of being out. Thanks to the Big Grownup and Crocket, I was able to spot the black-capped chickadees busy building a nest in the apple tree behind our house, saw the two red cardinals playing in the brush along our backyard path, glimpsed the brown bunny with the white cotton tail hopping along Dylan and Emily’s backyard, and watched the mated pair of hawks soaring above our heads looking for their next lunch.

I would have to say that thanks to Crocket, the Big Grownup and I were taken out for a walk at least 6 times a day, if not more, every day of my vacation. I know what the turkeys sound like when they are meandering through the woods, I know where the May flowers have blossomed right behind our house, and I know about a huge anthill just beyond the ridge of our back path that is populated by very busy red ants. And I learned that if you will let her, Crocket will go out for a walk every ten minutes if you want to and will find something new and interesting to keep her busy, that She demands and deserves lots of time and attention during the day, and that She won’t quit unless you give in first. I guess you could say I discovered on my vacation that Crocket is a job all on her own.

So when you drop by to visit, be sure to wear your sneakers, and bring along a hat and sunglasses. Crocket is sure to invite you into her outdoor world, one step at a time. It’s going to take a while, so please leave your watch at home! Stay tuned.   

I have to tell you that I am a pretty frisky girl. I have a lot of extra energy and a lot of things to think about that keep me busy day and night. I never run out of ideas, can always come up with a plan of action, imagine something I want to do. Of course, I like to do things my way and I count on being able to decide what it is I want to do and when I want to do it. 

Naturally, some of the things I think about doing can accidentally get me into trouble. My family is pretty easy going, though, gives me lots of extra leash when it comes to when and how I’m going to do things. They pretty much agree that I usually come up with some pretty good ideas, and they like to keep me company as much as they can, I think to keep me out of trouble.

Just the other morning I thought it was a good idea to go outside earlier than my usual time, change up my walking schedule a little bit and head out before I typically do with my Big Grownup. 

As it turns out, if I hadn’t done that She-Who-Is-In-Charge would never have looked out the back window to see where we had gone, and wouldn’t have noticed the dancing show going on between the eight turkeys wandering around in our backyard. As soon as I brought the Big Grownup home, She called him over to look out the porch window, asked him to count just how many turkeys he could see to find out if She was just imagining things or not.

I listened in on their “gobbling” conversation, wanted to tell them that I heard the turkeys ten minutes ago, which is why I had the good idea to head outside early in the first place. There they stood peering out the back window, the Big Grownup and She-Who-Is-In-Charge, silently watching the boy turkeys busy themselves displaying their fancy feathers in their dancing fashion to their girly companions.

Those same girls were not interested in being an audience for anyone on this particular morning, but rather were only interested in pecking along in the grass looking for their breakfast, oblivious to the attention-seeking performers strutting their stuff all around them. This whole display played out for my humans simply because I had the good idea to head outside. Once She-Who-Is-In-Charge finished watching the trotting turkeys and grabbed Her bag and headed out on Her day, I took a nap to recharge myself so I could use my revved up energy to think of another good idea.

This time I decided to concentrate on Sam and Max, come up with some way to let them know that I would like to play with them. Sam and Max are still wary of me, still don’t quite appreciate my good nature and boundless energy, usually run in the other direction when they see me coming. 

I must admit that I can be a little overly aggressive when it comes to sharing this house with our family felines, forget that they are little and need some space of their own, that I am not the only four-legged member of this household. The baby gates that used to fence me into the kitchen and living room when I was just a puppy are now used to give Sam and Max some defense against my get-up-and-go. One of the gates has been positioned at the bottom of the stairway that leads up to our upstairs bedrooms, and the other is across the Boy’s bedroom doorway.

These plastic blockades are to slow me down, give Sam and Max some breathing room to dash away should I decide to start a game of tag, run around the house. During my nap I came up with a plan to surprise my feline siblings, figured out a way to scale the walls and head up to their second floor sanctuary to declare one of them “IT”. I waited all afternoon, until She-Who-Is-In-Charge came home from Her day, so She could watch the events unfold for Herself firsthand. After eating dinner carefully prepared by the Big Grownup, and after She finished washing the pots and pans and loading Her hungry dishwasher, I started to run around the house, gather some steam for my clever idea.

Sam and Max noticed me right away, stood frozen on the landing as they tried to figure out just what it was I was up to. Around and around the house I scampered, gaining steam and momentum with each pass through the kitchen to the living room and around the dining room table.

I heard Her ask the Big Grownup what he thought I was doing, wondered out loud what did he think I was up to. That’s when I took the hint, put my great idea to work. Instead of turning the corner from the living room to head directly into the kitchen, I went full steam ahead and landed at the foot of the stairs, used my extra energy to scale the gate, climbed the stairs two treads at a time, sending Sam and Max into a dither.

They didn’t know what was happening, just knew they had better get out of my way fast! Unable to stop myself having reached the second floor faster than I expected, I slid towards the Big Grownup’s bedroom, my momentum pushing me closer and closer to his side of the bed. Not wanting to crash snout first into the mattress, I did the only thing I could-jump.

Which put me on top of the bedcovers and the Big Grownup’s pillow. Sam and Max were aghast, watching me from behind the gate in the Boy’s bedroom, their fur standing on end and their tails straight up in the air. Add to the confusion the fact that She-Who-Is-In-Charge was yelling my name over and over again, followed by those words “Get down RIGHT NOW” , and you can imagine that my great idea wasn’t exactly my best idea. 

Hearing Her feet running up the stairs after me, I quickly spun in place and headed back across the Big Grownup’s side of the bed, grabbed his covers and jumped down to the floor in a heap of blankets. I passed Her on the stairs and headed straight for the couch, to wait for my tongue-lashing. It took Her quite a while to catch Her breath and turn around, so all She could do when She reached me was look at me with Her “Naughty Dog!” eyes, while I looked back with my “I’m sorry” expression.

We sat together on the couch, just the two of us, and after a few minutes She started to giggle, softly, so no one else could hear Her but me. “Next time you want to play this game”, She said, “give me 5 minutes head start!” She’s a good sport, don’t you think? And me? I’m one lucky dog.    

Bringing home a new puppy is a little like bringing home a new baby, since there are many sleepless nights, new feeding schedules, and different priorities you have to fit into your busy life with both kinds of babies.  I have to say that it hasn’t been all fun and games having Crocket under our roof; rather, it has been hard work getting her to this point in time.

I have found out that training a puppy isn’t as easy as it looks even when you think you know what you’re doing and are totally prepared for what it’s going to be like. I was pretty sure the experience was going to be a “piece of cake”, thought I was ready for the adventure, could handle all the work a new puppy brings to a home, didn’t think anything about having another four-legged family member would be a surprise. After all, the Big Grownup and I are veteran dog owners, not “first-time parents” in the dog world, and went into this circumstance with open eyes; and despite our experience, we still found our lives full of unexpected surprises, bundled up in brindled fur and long flip-flop ears.

Crocket knew somehow that despite our outward appearance we were nervous parents, and took advantage of that fact the minute she realized she could. I remember the many discussions that the Big Grownup and I had in the weeks before she arrived, the “do you think?” questions we asked one another and the “let’s not make that mistake again” statements we shared as we awaited our sweet Tennessee Plott Hound’s arrival.

He promised me that she would stay small, not breach the 60 pound mark, while I promised that we would not give her one thing off of a human plate, that she was going to be strictly a dog food puppy. My plan was for her to sit at our feet while we shared our dinner, undisturbed by barking or demands to go outside for a walk.

She would be handled with strict scheduling, no deviation from the routine we were going to set from the first day forward. Raising a puppy isn’t for “sissies”, the Big Grownup warned; and I was ready for the challenge. No way, I promised, was she going to sleep on our bed, or bother the cats, or make a mess in any way, shape, or form.

However, we never got a chance to have the same conversation with Crocket. She came with her own set of expectations, and her own set of training rules. Try as we might to tame the puppy that is a part of her everyday makeup, it is easier said than done, and Crocket likes it that way. She is full of surprises when we least expect them, making each day she’s here delightful.

Every day she finds something to make us laugh, does something that keeps us off guard, unprepared for the reality of raising a puppy at our grownup age. Just the other night, as Crocket rested on the couch and I watched my favorite rerun of CSI©, I found myself half drifting off to sleep, was having a difficult time keeping my eyes open between commercials. Crocket, keenly aware whenever anyone is settled down and comfortable in their own seat, determined in her puppy way that it was too early for me to fall asleep, decided that it was in her best interest to keep me awake so she could count on  getting my attention.

So she took matters into her own paws and came up with her own puppy way to wake me up to keep her company in front of the television screen. She tip-toed over to where I was sitting, and without warning put her two front paws into my lap and climbed up to give me a Tennessee Plott Hound kiss on the face. Not willing to settle for half of her brindled frame staying on the floor, she put all four feet on my lap, almost tipped over the chair with our collective weight spread between the two arms of the rocker. She kissed me once, twice, three times before she turned herself around, plopped herself square in the middle of my lap and curled herself up for a quick nap of her own, satisfied she had my undivided love and attention. 

You know that I had to laugh right out loud at her shenanigans, hugged her tight and decided not to tell her that she is a big girl now, weighs too much to get up in my lap, is not a puppy anymore and should know better than to climb up on the furniture. I realized as I sat there, stunned by her antics, that she may be a year old on the outside, but she is always going to be a puppy on the inside, is never going to play by any rules the Big Grownup and I may decide she needs to follow. And for now that’s just fine with us.

So when you come to visit, be sure to wear your “play clothes”-Crocket’s always ready for some fun and games!

Stay tuned.

I remember that when I first came to live in this backyard, things were very different from the way they are now. Time passed very slowly. No one seemed in a hurry to do anything in particular. I remember that every thing that happened around here seemed to be in slow motion back then, that I was always being watched and no one seemed to care how long it took to do anything, that they never seemed to have any where else to be or had anything else that needed to get done this very minute except to be with me. 

Those early days just after my arrival were slow and restful, my time taken up by people who liked to sit still and hold me close, most of them happy to just hold me quietly with my snout nuzzled up against their necks. My nap times were usually celebrated with naps of their own, lying side by side curled up on the couch with me.

Their faces were sad, their eyes wet, in those very early days and weeks when I was learning just what it was that I had to do in this new place I was going to call home. The Big Grownup is not much different from the Big Grownup that I met way back then. He likes to watch me from afar, keeps his distance and makes sure I know what he expects of me. She-Who-Is-In-Charge was, I would have to say, the absolute saddest of the bunch; Her eyes always a drop away from grief.

The Boy and the Girl seemed anxious on that first day I came to live with them, seemed happy yet a little guarded about this step the family was taking together. Being the great family they are they never rushed me, let me take my own puppy “discovery time” to find out where my place was with the four of them in the group. Little by little I began to find their smiles, coaxed some giggles and outright laughs from them. I think it was the Girl who found me funniest first, managed to let a laugh slip past her lips to let me know I was doing a good job at being funny. I was slipping and sliding across the kitchen floor, all puppy-feet and brindled fur, and soon found myself losing my footing and toppled down flat onto my puppy belly, the Girl a step behind me and finding my dilemma striking her funny bone. I remember her scooping me up in her delicate hands, checking me out to be sure I hadn’t damaged anything more than my ego, and feeling her arms wrap around my body, her chin quivering in laughter where it laid against my brindled snout.

She still finds most anything I do funny, will often call our house to ask what I did today, likes to hear funny stories about my day retold by one of the humans in this house, keeps me close at heart even when she’s far away.

The Boy has been a little harder to commit, was tentative about accepting my arrival here, still isn’t quite sure what to think about me. He is a less frequent visitor than the Girl, always says he’s busy as soon as he arrives here, rushes about most of the time and heads back out the door before you even know he’s thinking of leaving. He is a “smiler” rather than a “laugher”, and I can’t say that I have ever heard him laugh out loud the same way that I have heard the Girl. But I can tell that I ‘ve made him happy a few times because I have seen a small grin cross his lips and light up his face when we’re playing together. He’s really good at playing catch, and he always gets a kick out of my catching the object he happens to be tossing my way. I like to jump up with all four feet off the ground when we’re playing our catching game to surprise him, a move that makes him grin at me the most. I’m hoping that once the weather warms up he will come home more often, give me more time to spend with him to get to know him better.

She-Who-Is-In-Charge took a long time to laugh, find anything about me to be funny. She is a good hugger, though, always likes to hold me close and kiss the top of my brindled head; but the laughing out loud is not easy for her. I don’t let that bother me. I know that with enough time I can fill whatever hole She and the rest of them have in their hearts.

Just the other night, I got Her giggles going quite by accident. She was sitting in Her rocking chair, watching that show with the doctor who’s named after a house, when I heard something outside that scared me a little. So, I walked across the room and got up in Her lap, a first for me, quite unexpected and uninvited. She started laughing right out loud, so loud that the Big Grownup came into the room to see what was going on. By the time I had managed to get all 70 pounds of my brindled frame comfortably situated on Her tiny lap, She was hysterically laughing, unable to catch Her breath, whether from the surprise or the weight of my stunningn maneuver.

Yes, I agree, time is flying by. But in a very short time I have managed to get each of them laughing, and loving, the “puppy” side of me. It’s only a matter of time before their hearts are totally mended, their hearts completely full of love for this brindled Tennessee Plott Hound, the same way they’ve already filled my heart. I know what you’re thinking; I’m thinking it, too.

Lucky me.

Of course, with the Boy busy finishing his senior year in college, and the Girl busy setting up her very own household with her husband, things around our house are quiet, quieter than they have been since the Big Grownup and I first got married, leaving Crocket lots of puppy opportunities to be the family “COA”.  

And since Sam and Max have no desire to have anyone even know that they exist, never mind discover that they are pretty good at performing their own feline tricks so that we will give them some attention, Crocket has plenty of room to be number ONE. We definitely need our lovely Crocket to spice things up a little bit around here, draw our attention out in a good way.

Because I am out of the house a great deal of the time during the week, I don’t get to see as much of Crocket as the Big Grownup does. And what I DO see of her is usually from the back, since I am always running to catch up to her, find myself following her lead in one way or another. She always wants to be first, putting me in back of her, most days left behind and always trying to catch up.

When the Big Grownup and I take her out for a walk, they have already dashed out the door and headed down the street while I am still in the kitchen buttoning up my coat and putting on my scarf and hat. I close the doors behind me, try to keep the two of them in my sights while I walk along the street, join them on their adventure. Crocket’s tail is easy to spot between the trees, curled the way it always is into a “Capital C” position, and she wags it back and forth during her journey, uses it as a barometer for her mood as she walks along the path.

By the time I catch up with the two of them, her nose is usually on the ground busy sniffing what direction the squirrel has headed in, or detecting how long ago the deer passed through this section of the path, sometimes even telling her whether Oliver has been out on his walk recently as well.

I never see her face, just her brindled back and her long legs, and I am always surprised how well she blends in with the ground and the trees. When the Big Grownup passes her leash off to me, I am still behind her, like an anchor, in charge of keeping her from getting too close to the street, too close to the edge near the drop off on the property she likes to visit, steer her clear of any danger she is too busy to notice as she noses around on her trek.

We walk behind her, the Big Grownup and me, try to pretend that we can keep up, do not tire of her dragging us around and about in our friendly neighborhood. We follow her down Grampy’s driveway; let her lead us into the side yard, all the while asking her not to pull too hard on her leash. She likes to look for squirrels in the treetops, stands up on her hind legs and leans herself on the trunks of the trees, barks at any four-footed beast or any feathered friend who will listen, pay some attention to the fact that she is claiming everything in her vicinity for her very own.

Standing behind her, I can see that she is all muscle and brindled fur, question the Big Grownup on what I should do when she starts climbing the tree on her own, as she appears capable of doing without even thinking about it. He tells me not to worry, he will divert her, grab her attention and direct it someplace else should she manage to lift herself more than a foot off of the ground.

Sometimes something will move just at the edge of Grampy’s fence, encouraging Crocket to run towards it, my hand still wrapped in the leash, my eyes on the back of her head, hoping I can guess just what direction she’s planning on heading towards. Lucky for us, the power lines are Crocket’s favorite place to wander around, and so again I follow her, watch her Capital C tail swish one side to the other as she follows that brindled snout under the brush and around the grasses as she searches for the bunnies and skunks that live in this neck of her walk.

The Big Grownup usually rescues me at this point, knows that I am running out of steam while Crocket is just gearing up for the second half of her stroll. We pass the leash off from behind her, when she isn’t looking, so that she will not take the advantage to sprint away when one of us is not securely latched to her brindled frame. We continue on this expedition, the Big Grownup beside her while I follow her from the back, all of us trudging along the path, anxiously waiting for something to sprint out from underneath a bush, give Crocket something to chase.

When she is tired of this game, she turns towards home, the Big Grownup next to her, with me in tow, her ears flapping in the wind as she gathers steam and tries to leave me in her dust. Lucky for me the rest of our walk is downhill, so I manage to keep up, almost pass her on our way to our backyard. She never gives up, though, keeps me in her wake as she sprints across the grass, gets to the sidewalk and our back door first. We open the door for her, let her climb inside first, leaving us to follow her brindled fur over the threshold, to then close the door behind us.

Should you stop by for a visit, and we don’t answer the door right away, look around in the neighborhood before you drive away. You just might spot the back of our sweet girl, recognize her Capital C tail, see the backs of two people following behind. Feel free to join us; the Big Grownup and I like to think of ourselves as our Tennessee Plott Hound’s “caboose”-and there’s plenty of room for another passenger!

Stay tuned.

When I was brand new in this backyard, they really didn’t know what to think about me, seemed to be very surprised and taken aback about my arrival in my new home. They stood far away from me, checked me out from other rooms in the house, and didn’t want to meet me up close and personal in those early hours and following days when I moved in to this address. I can’t say I blame them. I was pretty confused myself. One minute I was in Texas, surrounded by lots and lots of brothers and sisters, and the next thing I knew I was on an airplane all by myself, landing in a place I had never heard of before. It took me a few days to get my “wits” about me, and I know that Sam and Max used this time to size me up, figure out just what they were going to do about making room for my brindled puppy frame.

They kept their distance from me, and I kept my own distance from them as well. I remember climbing into my crate, curling up on the blanket that I had pulled inside, staring at Sam and Max from the comfort of my traveling personal space. They, in turn, stared back at me, climbed up on top of my crate and paced back and forth across my ceiling on their padded paws, figured out over time that I was not going anywhere, that I was their new four-legged “project”.

 Eventually, when no one human was watching, the three of us started nosing around one another, stepped in each other’s direction to see whether it was worth making contact. I am a very personable puppy, you know, and so I usually made the advances, tried to meet my feline companions on their turf. They were more agile that I was in those early days, took advantage of their climbing skills and headed up on top of things as I tried to join their space. The couch was their favorite spot, then they claimed the top of the piano, graduated to the kitchen counters as I grew in height and curiosity. Once I learned how to “do” stairs, Sam and Max took up running, dashing up the flight that takes you to the second floor of our house, and then took roost on the Big Grownup’s bed, smug in their ability to escape me despite my growing size and agility. But as She-Who-Is-In-Charge likes to say, “turn about is fair play”, and that is what Sam and Max learned the day I took them by surprise and managed to jump up and join them on their bedspread perch much to their mouth-dropping surprise!

 To stop the stairway racing shenanigans, She-Who-Is-In-Charge put a gate across the treads to block our four-legged races, giving Sam and Max what I consider an unfair advantage in this game of “cat and dog” that we are playing. The two of them like to come downstairs and taunt me into playing a game of tag, saunter back and forth in front of my brindled frame until I can ignore them no longer, pounce on the opportunity to chase them around the house because they always make me be the one who is “It”. I don’t mind, really, because I am good at it, good at running and chasing and playing their game. Around and around the first floor we go, into the living room, through the kitchen, across the computer room, and if the door is accidentally left open sometimes even into the Big Grownup’s virtual office. When Sam and Max have figured out that they tire out long before I even get up to full speed, they know enough to get out of my way, jump across the keys and play a few notes as they make their way up on top of the piano, decide to claim “ally ally in free” and leave me in my own dust at the base of the gated stairs.

 It is a challenge, for sure, to keep up with me, which is why I think I deserve to be the one who is in charge of all things four-footed in our house, be the one and only leader of the pack. They disagree, as you can imagine, tell me that they are only playing with me, that they are the ones who rule this roost. Since I am still a puppy, still growing into my brindled fur, I am going to let them think what they would like, not create any reason to get the fur flying just yet. But between you and me, I have another point of view, one that Sam and Max haven’t considered yet in this little game of who’s in charge.

The lady of this house, one “She-Who-Is-In-Charge”, thinks I’m funny. She lets me get away with almost anything, rarely finds any fault with what it is I’m doing, even when I’ve just chewed one of her favorite shirts to shreds, or even nibbled a bit of stuffing from the arm of Her favorite rocking chair. I would have to say that She thinks I can do nothing wrong, which in my opinion makes me in charge of just about everything, no matter what Max and Sam think. I’m willing to wait and see just how all of this plays out, who it will be in the long run that will end up the real four-footed leader of this pack. With the way She’s always finding excuses to keep me out of trouble, is always finding ways to show me just how much she’s in love with me, there’s really only one more thing that I have to say.

Lucky me.