Not My Dog Monday Wednesday

As you know, I was on my death bed Monday morning. After 11 rounds of puking, I had just about had it. I was looking forward to writing a Not My Dog Monday, but I never got the chance.

Until now!

Better late than never, rightyo? Taking Piper to Kentucky is always an experience. Somehow, my family is not very good with animals. Piper is more like a cat than anything, yet they still have issues with her. So here we go:


Upon entering Kentucky, Piper did not become a daddy's girl. She did not cling to Mark like a desperate child, holding onto his leg and whining like a baby. And when he left to run out to the car, or left to go to the restroom, she did not run to the door, scratch like a crazy lunatic, and cry. Her little cries weren't hoarse and pathetic. Nope. My dog isn't a baby at all. Not my dog!

When Piper first saw Hudsie this time around, she did not instantaneously think, "Mmm. Baby!" and run up to him, sniff his diaper, and run around him like a circus dog. She did not scare my poor, wittle Hudsie so much that he scurried around, fell on his back, and "let" Piper lick him all over. My dog? Scary? Nevah. (Note: By the end of the week, Hudson was blowing kisses, shouting "Piiiiipuh!" over and over, and petting my dog. They became little buddies. Swear it.)


In Virginia, Piper never tries to "escape" us. Not since she was a little puppy. But when we crossed the boarder into Kentucky, something snapped inside her. She was determined to slip out of our front door at any given chance. So, when my mom leisurely walked outside one morning, Piper did not squeeze through the door and bolt across the yard. I did not have to get up, run outside in my pajamas & socks, and try to catch her. I was not caught screaming, "Piiiiiperrr!!!!!!!!" super loud in the neighborhood like a crazy lady. And this scenario did not actually happen TWICE. Nope. After the first stern talking-to, my dog would never try to pull a stunt like that again. Nope... surely not... (although, let's thank our lucky stars that Mark is an expert dog-catcher!)


And, finally, this past weekend we went outside to enjoy the balmy weather with our dog and nephews. Piper did not kick into her Westie-ness and decide to dig,dig,dig until the cows came home. She was not caught scrambling in the dirt, getting her precious, perfect white face all dirty and ugly. Nope. My beautiful baby girl would never be caught looking like this:

Nope! Not MY dog!