Rascal has his own stocking. Erin is usually the only one who writes him a love note, although Richard wrote him one a few years back. As a pup he was especially fond of plastic lawn furniture and any flower pot not made of terra cotta. This earned him his own pen down in the back of the yard.
About 5 years ago we got a friend for Rascal. It was our concession because the kids had lost interest in playing with the 80 pound lab in the back yard. Rolle was a great friend, especially for as much as Rascal bothered her (until he was cured of his agression by a quick trip to Dr Parker).
Over the years the dogs have tired of their fenced in area during the days and have chewed through the fence, wood, or whatever we put down there to keep them in. Last week Rascal was trying to fit his big head through some pretty sturdy chicken wire and must've gotten stuck or something. When Lauren went down to feed him he wasn't moving and was wedged under the fence. He was dead. I was out of town with Ryan that morning, thankfully Richard was at home and took care of arrangements before we returned.
Rolle was beside herself for a few days but doesn't look for him now like she did. She refuses to stay in the pen right now and even though she saw the whole scene, still tries to bury herself under the same piece of fence anytime we put her up.
Rascal was a great dog and didn't get nearly enough playing time. He once almost drowned in our pool. His favorite non-food item was a grill brush. He did not like lightning. He was scared of the mower, weed eater and Richard if he was playing rough. He loved to play in the sprinkler.
No comments:
Post a Comment