Oh, to be a dog person

In the last 48 hours, we’ve had some interesting dog adventures.

Thursday: 6 Lab-mix puppies showed up at our back porch. Raleigh got stressed to the hilt.  Ken guessed they were only about 4 weeks old and hadn’t eaten in several days.  We assumed someone dropped them off and they wandered up where they smelled “dog”.  Ken boxed them up and took them uptown to the animal shelter.  I hope someone will get them as pets.

Friday: Sometimes (especially when the weather is pretty), we’ll let Raleigh out to play.  He’ll sniff around, dig stuff out of the leaves, roam in the woods, but he never seems to go far… until Friday.  This time, he teamed up with the neighbors dog – I call him “the big bear” – he’s a chocolate brown lab that’s about 1 and 1/2 times bigger than me.  They roamed and ended up somewhere wet, because when Ken called him and he came home, Big Bear was with him and Raleigh was soaked to the skin and MUDDY!  We could only guess that they had been down to the creek.  I couldn’t be mad, I just laughed and secretly thought this lab might have taught my spaniel to swim.

All this excitement got me thinking about my experiences with dogs throughout my life…

When I was little, we lived in the parsonage owned by the church that my dad was the pastor of.  Next door was Strawberry Shortcake – she was a red bulldog of some kind (American or Boxer) – and she was mean.  She’d bark and growl all the time when we’d pull in the driveway or if my toys ended up too close to her fence (thank God for that fence).

Then across the street was Bear, a black Chow.  He belonged to Danny, Melissa, and Dorothy – those are the kids that lived there that I’d play with (they had a trampoline).  Bear wasn’t scary other than his relative size to my 6 year-old body, he was black, and his name was Bear. But the still kept him up when I was over playing.

And on down the road was the Doberman.  I don’t know his name, and didn’t care to.  This dog came running up the road while I was riding my bike.  I was heading up the driveway and he stopped running and looked at me.  I turned my bike around and ended up hitting the broken spot in the drive way and took a spill.  I then ran crying into the house where mom was.  Now, as I think about it, that dog probably didn’t even step one foot in our yard but I was terrified.  Ended up w/ a skint knee and elbow.

After we moved to Georgia, there weren’t any dogs in our neighborhood.  The most interaction I had with dogs was when I was riding to school with my mom.  Over in the next neighborhood, there was a Scottish Terrier that we called “Scottie”.  He always seemed to have on a red bandanna/scarf when we saw him.  And then there was Bubba – a Basset hound.  And every day, sometimes going, sometimes coming home, we’d see them sitting in their respective yards just watching traffic.  And we’d wave and say “Heeeey Scottie”  and “Howdy Bubba”.

It wasn’t until I met the Fredericks that I learned that Dobermans could be sweet pets and are more baby than society gives them credit for.  And it wasn’t until I had to live alone in a big city that I actually entertained the thought of owning a dog – not for protection, but for company.

I have this “ideal pack” in my head of the breeds of dogs I’d like to own.  One small, one medium, and one large – HA!  Ken wants a Great Dane (that would be large), not sure what the small one would be. All at the same time?  Maybe, maybe not.

But for now, I’ll stick with Raleigh – he’s only 10 months old and he’s got a lot more to learn.

And just for fun, here’s a picture of “Raleigh the Rhinoceros”…


Escape from St. Patrick

For those who don’t know – St. Patrick’s Day is a huge day of celebration in Savannah.  Parade, parties, food, drinks, beads, all the craziness.  It seems like the whole Southeast United States decends on Savannah the weekend before St. Patty’s day to take part in the festivities.  I, on the other hand, care nothing about any of it…I’m not Irish, I’m not Catholic, and I’m not an alcoholic.  So far, I have been able to escape St. Patrick’s Day because it fell close to or on a weekend.  This year, it was on Tuesday!

My husband, Ken, decided to give me a little surprise (well, half of a surprise because he wanted me to approve, plus he just really doesn’t like keeping secrets!)  Monday night, he drove down to Savannah and picked me up after work and drove me to Hilton Head Island (that part I knew about).  He had booked a 1-night stay at the Hilton Oceanfront Resort for the two of us.  It was raining but I didn’t care!


We got dressed up and went to dinner at the hotel restaurant – hh prime – some of the best food I’ve ever put in my mouth!  We were going to try to walk on the beach but it was cloudy and creepy dark, then it started raining again.

hh prime

Who knew the perfect vacation would be going to bed at 10 pm!!

We thought about waking up to see the sunrise – it was still cloudy plus sleeping in sounded so much better.  We checked out and then headed back to the beach.  I love the beach any time of the year- even when it is 60 degrees and windy!


Then, we just spent the day driving around Hilton Head – went to the mall, ate at Fudruckers, got accosted by a time shares guys (read about that on Ken’s blog), stopped by Tanger (whoever called those outlets must be confused!) – then headed back to Savannah.

Oh and guess what?!  Neither one of us wore green all day!!

Then we just spent the evening in, watched American Idol and ate Zaxby’s!

My hero really came through for me!