By Lisa Huddleston
It’s a rainy, chilly, gray, November day, and, no, Dottie, I do not want to wander aimlessly around the soggy yard waiting for you to do your “business.” In fact, I’m not really convinced that you have any business to do. What I really suspect is that you enjoy tormenting your weak-willed, adopted mother by making me follow mole trails and cats all through the muddy, soupy grass. I am cold and ill-tempered and highly impatient. It’s only 9:30 in the morning, and we’ve already made this happy trek at least three times with only sporadic success.
But what’s a foolish dog owner to do? You are still very young and a novice at house training. When you whine anywhere near the vicinity of the back door, we all jump to do your bidding, cooing, “Good girl,” with every step and allowing you to drag us wherever your little puppy heart desires. Yeah—you’ve got me where you want me, and you know it. I’m just saying, you aren’t fooling me for a minute. I know it, too—for whatever that’s worth.
So, really, what can I do but jump at your bidding and slog around the yard hoping and praying for you to do what you do best—better in the yard than in my house! Yep. It’s a lovely day at the Huddleston Animal Farm, and some animals definitely are more equal than others. (But isn’t she a cutie-pie?)