Good morning the dogs are ready to play: Walter and Friends in the morning

Every morning at around or about 6 AM, my dog Walter, the Boxer, emerges from the dog side of the bed, throwing off his blanket and pushing his pillow to the side: it's time for his friends to come over and he doesn't want to be late.

Oh, our friend, Pepper, a 9 month-old behemoth of a dog, growing fast, is the first to head through our gate to get to his friend Walter. They smash into each other, run the yard, and play watchdog, because really all they could ever do is watch.
They look vicious and violent, but have nothing but fun together each day. Walter who had lost his pal, the little guy, Johnny Rotten, last Thanksgiving, has finally reached a point where he can attach himself and not feel like he's going to lose another friend.

Fuzzy, our old matriarch of the pack, slowly keeps the boys in order and has taught them both a number of things such as "touch my milkbone and I'll take your eye out." So far, Walter and Pepper have been able to retain their eyes, however, there have been a few close calls.

Fuzz lost her best friend over a year ago, Duke, the dog who was also a good pal and neighbor. It's tough that our beloved pets couldn't live longer and stay with us throughout our lifespan. Though my parrot is purported to be able to reach 80 years old, I don't think I'll be around for that.

The brat pack

There's not that much that gets past my pack of dogs, they may not maul anyone, but they will at least make them uncomfortable. A couple of firemen were jogging down our street chatting and Walter the "love machine" put on a show of feirocity.

"You know those dogs can jump straight over the fence and come and get us," he told his pal.

I was sitting on the deck listening, thinking, if they only knew that if he did make it over the fence, the only consequence would be to have to pet him and be forcefully loved on.

(not afraid of fires, but a show dog, showing off, another story)

I'm the watchdog, these are just my friends. I need a sign: Don't sweat the dog, it's the owner you need to worry about.

Fighting, snarling, tug o' war, and of course damaging everything they can. My couch I enjoy sitting on during the warm summer nights, is now down to the wood and staples. Not some much comfortable anymore.

It's our average morning in Weldon, with dogs playing, cats at the door, parrots yelling at the dogs to "shut up" yet she's far louder, and I fall back into bed after getting the crew up and begin my day.

But I must admit, I enjoy the sounds of playing in the yard, and even my spoiled cat harassing me in the morning, and the happy expression on my parrot's face when she is awoken and fed.

It's a great way to live...and I enjoy every moment with them. And they always surprise me. Picture, a blue and gold macaw on my shoulder, a cat on my lap, two dogs snuggled up, and one breathing hard on my computer screen fogging it up. I love it.