The crafty BC

Roux is quite the bossy girl.

She knows how to nudge her head under your arm so you know to pet her. She knows the routine in the morning -- when the newspaper reading and ball throwing is over, Lindsey gets up for his shower and it's time for "Mama love." She insists on her private time with me, right on schedule every morning.

She can't stand it when Gumbo is getting petted. She always manages to wriggle in on any lovefest.

Gumbo, the perfect gentleman, always acquiesces to Roux's intrusions. But he's got a one-up on her.

He's learned she also can't stand it when he plays with her toys. Roux especially likes Booda bones, and Gumbo really doesn't have anything to do with them.

Except...

When Roux wiggles in on his "love time," Gumbo has now started finding a Booda bone. He sits in plain view, tosses it in the air a few times, lays down and places it ever-so-coyly across his forelegs.

She's torn. This is human love. There's my Booda bone. Love. Bone. Love. Bone.

The bone eventually wins, and as she romps into the bedroom, merrily tossing it into the air ....

Gumbo gets his love.

Roux the island dog

Good fortune smiles upon the border collies occasionally, and this time it was an invitation to a weekend retreat at Worthington Island on the Mississippi River.

In addition to miles of trails to explore and other pups to play with, in mid-summer the island features a large sandbar that extends into the river.

We knew from a prior trip that Gumbo would chase a tennis ball anywhere, including into shallow water if necessary.

We toted our umbrellas, chairs, lunch and reading materials to the sandy beach. We gathered driftwood for a fire to grill some hot dogs. We turned around to count dogs -- there were five -- and Roux was standing in water up to her shoulders.

Just standing there.

We thought she was stuck in the muck. But no, she was just cooling off.

As we rafted in the cool water and watched the river traffic go by, we learned that Roux is one fine swimming dog.

In fact, she coulda been a retriever!

That's Mr. Alpha Dog to you!

Father's Day can be a little bit strange in our blended family.

My husband truly helped raise my daughter, whom he met as a teen-ager. I'm proud to say they are very close and he always has considered her his child also.

Together, we helped raise a foreign exchange student who now is in pharmacy school at the University of Louisiana at Monroe.

And we have friends, who at various stages of their lives and our lives, can be more like family than friend.

Such was the conjunction of the planets on Father's Day 2006. A close friend spent the night to help us with some projects around the house. The daughter was happy with her other fathers and her new husband in Baton Rouge. We didn't hear from the student, which isn't all that unusual since he doesn't pay much attention to American holidays.

But we have our "children," the border collies.

They sent their Alpha Dog e-cards to announce their participation in the holiday. And on Father's Day morning, along with exquisite Honduran coffee on our newly improved, lushly landscaped patio, there were the border collies, showing up for their morning game.

But on this special day, they showed up wearing banners:

"Happy Father's Day!"

"We love you Dad."

And, in true border collie fashion:

"Our Dad has the best balls!"

"Mr. Personality"

Summerfest was indeed summer.

At 88 degrees, we were sweating out our time as therapy dogs and owners. But this was our first therapy visit with kids, and we wondered how Gumbo would react to all that energy.

It was a beautiful thing.

They petted. They loved. He behaved.

But when the kids discoveed the border collie would run after a stick -- well, we drew a crowd.

It's a miracle the tree beside us had any limbs at all!

We had a great time, and we're really hooked on this therapy dog thing. It's a wonderful thing to love an animal and to be able to share that love with so many people who want just to be able to pet a dog!

(Later in the dog show the two therapy border collies, Gumbo and Cody, were judged the dogs with the "most personality.")

Dog biscuits were shared by all....

Officially therapeutic

Gumbo is officially a therapy dog now. He made his first visit recently to Azalea Estates, which is an assisted living complex.

We think he likes it. Who wouldn't like being petted by everyone in sight?

Lindsey and I enjoyed our visit, also. We walked in the door, and a gentleman was sitting right inside the foyer.

"OOOOHHHH, a DOG!" he exclaimed.

We learned that many of the residents miss their pets. And we heard many stories of this good dog, or that good dog.

More therapy visits are definitely in our future! Lindsey and I are checking out where we might want to live someday!

Just slap me

Tonight was "Girls just want to have fun" night at the annual Monroe Junior League Spring Market.

Hundreds of vendors filled the Civic Center arena. The girls were treated to wine and tapas as they shopped, so you KNOW we all shopped 'till we dropped.

I encountered a dog booth, and was momentarily mesmerized by a jeweled pink collar that probably would fit Roux.

Peggy and Vici came by and dragged me away, but not before I saw the itty bitty teenie weenie yellow polka dot dog bikini.

"Just slap me if I ever try to buy something like this," I said.

"Don't worry," Peggy said. "I'll commit ya."

Sense. Responsibility. Reality. That's what friends are for.

Two dawg, one cat nights

Winter finally has arrived in northeastern Louisiana.

And with it, we've discovered the true meaning of "three dog night."

Lindsey says that means it takes three dogs on the bed to keep you warm.

We're experiencing a similar reaction.

We call it the "two dog, one cat night."

When the temperature outside dips below 40, the two border collies and the calico cat all find warm places on our queen-sized bed.

It's bad enough that they park themselves politely when we first go to sleep.

Then they stretch out.

When they're asleep, they're as dead-weight as a bunch of concrete blocks on the bed. You can't budge. You can't change positions. They've got you locked down.

At least once each night, I'm awakened by Lindsey's gruff, "ROUX! OFF!"

She's the worst bed hog -- she stretches out, managing somehow to cover about six square feet of bed space.

I finally took half a Tylenol PM past night and wasn't awakened once by "Gumbo, MOVE" or "ROUX! OFF!"

Couldn't have been that I was in a drugged sleep. Maybe it was just warmer...