For Gem. I hope you smile :-)

Last night, the walls of my house were bursting at the seams. I had company – Steve, Brandon, Aaron (who has appointed himself head kid), Sylvia, and Brandi, in addition to Dale, me, Spike and You. That may not seem like many, but my house is small.

It was hot and noisy, much like a traffic jam in summer. Poor Spike and You didn’t like it. They’ve grown accustomed to their peace and quiet. You abandoned us when the front door opened for the umpteenth time, but Spike wasn’t quick enough.

At one point, I escaped to the kitchen for coffee. I felt something at my leg, and looked down to find Spike had glided in behind me. How he made his escape, I’ll never know; when I left the living room, he was draped with children – the object of much attention and affection. But there he was, waiting for his coffee and looking up at me with soulful eyes that said…They ARE leaving soon, aren’t they?

I patted his head. “One lump or two, fella?”

Apparently, that wasn’t a satisfactory response. He slumped into a miserable blonde heap at my feet and buried his nose between his paws.

He’s a one woman dog, has been since he was a puppy. When Dale would roll him around on the floor like he was a spinning top, he’d come hide behind me while I scolded the son. After that, Spike’s expression would be that of – Haha! Now do it again, big boy! But Mama wasn’t saving him tonight. At least, not at that point.

I went back into the living room where the kids were clamoring for more puppy love.

“Where’s Spike?”
“Can we put a leash on him?”
“Let’s dress him up in a shirt and sunshades!”
“He’s so big, i bet i could ride him like a horse!”

Ah, there was the opening I needed to save poor Spike.

“Speaking of horses…did you guys happen to notice Spike has terribly bad breath?

One of the kids fanned his hand in front of his nose.

“Yeah, he sure does!”

“Do y’all want to know why Spike’s tongue is so black?”

All the little heads nodded yes, and they sat rapt, waiting for the story.

“Well, a few weeks ago, Spike was playing outside. When he decided it was time to come back in, he scratched at the door instead of whining like he usually does. I opened the door, and noticed something was wrong with his mouth. He looked like Grandpa does when he has a plug of tobacco in his jaw.”

“Did a snake bite him, Aunt Mara?”

“That’s exactly what I thought had happened! I’ve seen dogs with snake bites before, and that’s what it looked like, but no…he had something in his mouth. I thought it was a bird or God forbid, a kitten.”

“ewwwwwwwwwww! Spike eats kittens?”

“Anyway, I tried to get him to open his mouth. ‘Whatcha got there fella? C’mon, show me.’ But he gave me that Not on your life look, and wouldn’t let me pry his jaws open. I wrestled with him for a while, got tired and gave up.”

“Didn’t you ever find out what it was?”

“Not at first. He walked away from me and gave me another look that said, don’t follow me. He laid down in the pinestraw and just sat there, watching me to make sure I wasn’t coming. Well, all that wrestling must have tired him out, too, because he opened his mouth, and….”

“What? What was it?”

:..out dropped the biggest pile of horse poop I’ve ever seen!”

The horrified split second of silence was priceless and then came,

“EEEEEWWWWWWW!!!”

“HE LICKED MY FACE!”

“Omigod, Spike eats do-do!”

“Yep! and that, children, is why Spike’s tongue is so black.”

About that time, Spike came gliding back from the kitchen and slumped at my feet again. All three kids scrambled into one corner of the sofa, squealing.

“Oh come on – he only eats thoroughbred horsie-do, and you know their poop don’t stink. Come play with him!”

“No way!”

“Ah well, it’s his snack time anyway. I should let him go visit the pasture now.”

I opened the front door and Spike oozed his graceful self out, and as he passed by me, he paused, gave me a stoic, unreadable look. Maybe he meant – It’s about time! But he paused again when he reached the porch, looked back over his shoulder, and I swear, he winked at me.