Men, Dirt, and Dog Days

Give a guy a backhoe and a bad job just got better.

It began with the backhoe.

Anyone on a farm will tell you if you're bringing out the backhoe, something's wrong. Fix it time.       

See Michael smiling.

Problem was a rusted pipe, older than (struggling for a metaphor here) I. Probably. Had to be replaced. Awful job. Humid day. Dog days of summer.

Harold grew up on a farm. Has great stories. Understands farmlife.

Lots of hand digging. Took the better part of the day. Should have invested in Gatoraid. We drink it and water in buckets. Dig, shovel, dirt. Change girls' water.

Notice the girls. Backhoe. Check. Noise. Check. Life on the farm. Check.

Life lessons from llamas: don't sweat the small stuff. Find some shade, line up with the breeze, find munchies. Life is good.

48' of PVC, dirt, digging day...

Pipe is bad. Harold touched it and poof. Gone. Lends new meaning to touchy. Feel the humidity. A digging dirty day, and I've got to tell you, men just don't seem to mind getting down and dirty.

I've always said I have the best help, and if their patience and endurance was put to the test, it had to be today. They are simply that good!

All the time.

Half GSD, half Black Lab, wholly wonderful best friend.

But then I lost it, or began to. My dog's continued difficulty getting up, walking, doing normal dog things got to me. And her. Such a big proud good dog. Reduced to barking.

Here's what I'm doing about that.

Everything in my power.
A chiropracter.
A woman who does a little bit of everything. Reiki, massage, adjustment. She may even have crystals. I don't care, so long as she can fix her.

Nothing is forever, and I know as well as anyone. But I am not quitting on this dog. She never quit on me. Us. Anyone. She may be having her dog days, but I'm there with her, and as long as I can lift her up and down, keep her moving, comfortable, dignified, it's a good day.