Man's Best Friend, A Red Frisbee and Heavy Snowfall

Even in heavy snowfall, Willow is still a diehard Frisbee fetcher.  Click on the video below to view.

Slobbery Golf Balls

It’s been over a decade since I played my last round of golf. Seven since I emptied a bucket of balls at the driving range. So, I dusted off my clubs and walked to the field behind my sister's house to practice my golf swing.

Besides being a bit rusty and digging too many divots, I didn't last long out there because of the dog. Willow chased down and chewed up the golf balls, returning the slobbery devils with more dimples than they originally had.

Yes, I could have left her inside, but I’ve missed being around this special pup. The job I started two weeks ago leaves little time for playtime with my favorite canine.

Running after golf balls just might replace Willow’s ultimate pastime—catching Frisbees.

Canine Tug of War

It’s been raining for five of the last seven days, and the dogs have cabin fever. Ever since Willow’s muddy bath-time fiasco, I only let them outside for potty breaks.

On the lefrt, Willow, the Labrador. On the right, Buddy, the Shih Tzu.

So, they’ve resorted to playing outdoor games inside the house. Nothing is funnier than watching this Mutt-and-Jeff duo in a tug of war.

Guess which one usually wins? Yep, that’s right. Willow.

However, Buddy doesn’t back down so easily. He puts up a good fight in one of two ways. The more comical sight is of the little guy slightly airborne and floppy like a ragdoll, biting down on his end of the rope and holding on for dear life.

The more dignified contest is of Buddy yanking the rope while trotting alongside Willow, three steps for her every one step. Now imagine an ox and a piglet yoked together, lopsided of course. You get the picture.

I tried to snap an action photo of their tugging war, but once they saw me, they came running with toys.

Their eyes say it all. “Play with us!”

The Waddler and The Warrior

The waddler and the warrior—doesn’t that sound like the title of a movie or novel?

In reality those are the words I use to describe my sister's dogs.

Shiloh, the waddler, is an overweight Shih Tzu enjoying her golden years. The warrior, Buddy, is a one-and-half-year-old male whose black-button nose and chocolaty-brown eyes make my insides go mushy. I originally labeled him a prancer because he’s a lively pup that dances in circles when excited. However, I changed my mind about that description after witnessing his protective nature toward the female.

Only a pint-size specimen of a dog, Buddy would protect his elderly sidekick at any cost. Of this I am sure. His chivalry rivals any human warrior’s. I’ve seen him race to the edge of the property, warding off an unseen foe with his yapping. Satisfied that he has held the predator at bay, he struts back with a puffed-out chest to his companion to make sure she’s okay.

Shiloh probably thinks, “There’s no one out there, you dimwit,” but keeps her opinion to herself.

A rare glimpse of Shiloh's evil eye. She guards her "human" food from Buddy.

And although she’s not part of his canine lineage, she tolerates his rambunctiousness as only a mother could. Their unconditional love and loyalty are displayed to their humans as well. My heart is secure in knowing that my sister and young nieces have a watchdog with the attitude of a Doberman. I like to think his gallantry is a plumb line to measure bravery when facing my own fears.

However, I’ll forgo the strutting and leave that to Buddy.