Our Canine Guests

The first time they escaped the confines of their backyard to vacation on our beach, I actually felt a bit tickled that they would grace us with their puppy presence. My boys love dogs. Nolan was so happy to see dogs in the backyard that he abandoned the red wagon and started running toward them before I could give him adequate warning. Immediately, our visitors were all over Nolan, playing with my son like he was just another object to battle over. I grabbed him out from under those playful pups. He was covered in slobber and had scratches on his neck and face. One scratch landed directly under his right eye. Needless to say, he was pretty upset. I had to curb my own emotions as I explained that they weren't trying to hurt him. Puppies like to play. Later, at lunchtime, he was rehearsing to me the events of the morning and upon describing his horrific experience with the puppies, said very earnestly, "Momma, I am NOT a toy."

After that, I just hoped our neighbors would be more responsible with their new pets, but the very next morning, traces of puppy could be detected on our front stoop and the following day, my cute little flower bed had exchanged impatiens for paw prints. I knew we had a problem. My drooping, broken plants were a constant reminder. I fought against a pang of anger every time I passed by the muddled stems of my flower bed.

My irritation festered for a few days until I just knew I had to let it go. As any sort of ill feeling, it was getting me nowhere. On the very day I decided to think kindly, the dogs reappeared. This time Olivia was outside with me, so she quickly ushered my anxious boys inside. I grabbed for the collars and made those puppies sit down. After holding them in their places for a short while, they calmed down and just looked at me sadly. Their eyes seemed so innocent and sincere. My heart softened. All I could do was say, "It's okay, you pups."

All was well. Olivia came back out to pet them and play with them. She genuinely enjoyed their company. They ran together and rolled in the grass. She threw them sticks and spoke of taking them to the pond. Then their master started calling through the hedge.

My mom accompanied them home and politely interrogated the neighbor. "How old are they?" "Where did you get them?" "What was their cost?" "Were there any more?" "Are you sure you want two?" Adding, for good measure, "I'll bet they would enjoy having kids to play with and a pond to swim in."

And I haven't seen them since.