Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Harley the brat dog

Yes, yes, I know.

Usually Harley Barley is the sweetest dog on God's green earth.

But not always.

I know you don't believe me - - -  I know . . . 


Some days he seems to be possessed by a devil.  Know what I mean?

I guess even the nicest of us can sometimes cross over that line, huh?

It's a rainy, foggy, chilly, ugly day in these mountains today.

I've turned on all the lights in an attempt to replace the much too long missing sun.

I took a long hot soakie bubble bath with my new lemon/honey-dew bubbles.

Sipped my coffee and read my book while soaking.

Even had one of my favorite albums playing in the background.

The Allman Bros. "Eat a Peach"
I could listen to this album over and over and over.  Actually, I have.  Many times for many years.  And have seen them in concert a lot of times also.

The one song on this album that will still stop me dead in my tracks is "Blue Sky."

I just want to stop whatever is happening in the world to listen to this song.

So, I was feeling pretty good.

Slipped into warm flannel jammies prepared to have a lazy jammie kinda day.

Before I fluffed up my pillows and slipped under my quiltie I decided to take Harley out to take care of business

Usually, when it's raining, this is a very quick little trip.  I can stand in the car port and Harley can run, do his thing and run right back.

This time?



Devil Dog!

He decided to go down the bank, through wet ankle deep leaves to poke around the pond.  

Me yelling, "Yo! Harley!"

Then he decided since he was doing such a grand job of ignoring me he might as well make it a real adventure and waded across the creek.


By this time what I was yelling was a wee bit more than "Yo!  Harley!"

And he had apparently gone completely, totally stone deaf.

Nothing would do but for me to follow Harley's evil twin (because, surely, this could not be our Harley, right?!)  down the bank yelling threats of the most dire nature and the consequences he would suffer if he didn't listen to his mama and get his tail-less butt on back over here because I was NOT wading across that ice cold creek.


FINALLY - whether from fear (HA! hahahaha!) or promises of treats, cookies, a steak, whatever . . .  he came back and he followed me back up the wet slippery bank and into the house.

Into the house where I had to get out of my now soaking wet jammies and into dry ones.

Into the house grumbling at me the entire way.  And yes, he can, and does, grumble.  Usually it's pretty hysterical, but today?

Not so much.

He grumbled.

I grumbled.

He got louder.

So did I.

I turned on our new little electric fireplace (which I love entirely too much), and Harley settled in front of it too.

He looked so sweet that all was, of course, forgiven.

So sweet I knew I needed a picture.

And damned if he didn't stick his tongue out at me!

I swear.  I have always been attracted to bad boys.  

I guess that even includes dogs.

'cause Lord knows, I do love this evil little devil dog.  

To the moon and back.

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