Our beloved Jack is almost 9 months old. Jane wants to know if he's going to be as big as Clifford. Picture this. He is standing next to me right now salivating at Kathleen's baggie of chips. Jane is crying because he slung her off his back like a rag doll.
"When is she going to get it that I'm not a horse?", he muses.
He's a food-focused, duck retrieving prodigy who's not afraid to risk banishment to the out-of-doors for a shot at a ham sandwich let unattended on the counter (my fault, don't tell Mike.) He loves to ride to school with the human puppies and most days he does. This morning was a fiasco, however and Kathleen gets the good-sport and regain-your composure award. Here's the deal. I thought Jack might stay in one place better if he had something to chew on in the car. So I let him take a piece of the plastic pipe the contractors left in our yard (out-building project, a future blog post). He starts out fine in the 'way-back' but decides the middle seat riders (Kathleen and Jane) needed company. He hurls himself over the seat with the large plastic pipe in his mouth (my fault, don't tell Mike.) Along with way, he scratches Kathleen with either the pipe edge or his teeth, we aren't sure which. Keep in mind Nicholas and I are in the front seat, yelling "Jack, Jack - stop - stay in the back" all the while driving to school. Amid the chaos I hear that pitiful muffled cry from my 8-year-old that seems to say "I'm trying not to cry because we're almost at school."
We get to school and Kathleen blinks back a couple of leftover tears, inspects her battle scars and deems she's ready for her day. What a recovery! She deserves the 'I survived the Jack Attack award.' Did I mention that Jack is our beloved dog?!
