Newscoma

The water was standing at the end of our yard. The culverts couldn’t handle the overflow of days of rain and I found myself wondering how deep it was.
The sun was being shy and only peeking out in small doses. As I headed back toward the house, Mabel saw a small Westie, no more than a pup, wandering around the neighborhood. It’s human pet was on his trail and he was quickly whisked away. She gave him a good talking to and then nuzzled him as she walked back up the street to her house.
Mabel was smitten. Or at least I thought she was smitten. I, although I will lose cool points, am a closet romantic. Years ago, Squirrel Queen’s father had a mountain kir, but we just called it a squirrel dog, because it is. Mabel would go the farm and play with the dog, whose name was Trapper, for hours.
I kidded people that she had found her life partner. I said that Trapper was her husband. He was a handsome looking dog, not too big or too small with fur that was striped somewhat like a calico cat. He was friendly, but not out of control, and I liked him quite a bit.
He died a few months later after SQ’s father passed. I wonder at times if he died of grief. I guess Mabel’s love could not save him.
So I like the fact that my Mabel is now a canine version of a cougar. She is quite taken with the Westie pup.
As I pondered the possibilities of the romantic entanglements of my dog, the rain came back again and she jumped in my lap, hiding from the impending storm.

Lazy days as summer turns to fall here in Hoots. It is quite apparent after the events of the last few months, I most likely need a vacation as I’m thinking of a dog wedding.

By the way, the closet romance stuff, well that’s between us. I have a reputation to uphold.