Layla, The Wonder Wuss, got her butt kicked again yesterday by another dog. But THIS time it was in her very own backyard...well, ALMOST, it was actually in our alley.

A stray momma dog with puppies has been hanging around and one of the neighbors has been feeding her. Which, by the way, is against the law, according to the Animal Control Officer. FYI - you can pretty much be a total fiend to your OWN dog, but don't you DARE try to feed a stray...not here in Beautiful Mesquite, Texas, Rodeo Capital of The World!!

Anyway, Roger and Layla were happily tripping down the alley (and if you knew Roger and Layla you'd realize that "tripping" is pretty accurate here), when, all of a sudden Momma Dog rushes out and jumps on Layla.

Now, let me pause right here to say that Momma Dog is definitely a mutt of indescriminate lineage, and she weighs approximately 35 pounds. Layla is a fine specimen of a purebred Labrador Retriever and weighs in at a, shall I say "voluptuous", 102 pounds.

Do the math and you'll see that my beloved blonde was taken out by a dog approximately one-third of her size, AND, who is a single parent taking care of a BROOD of children. Now, some people will say that was the reason the momma dog attacked, she was protecting her young, and while, that was probably PART of it, I'm here to tell you that when MY own boys were little I doubt if I'd have had the ENERGY to tackle someone three times my size. Oh, I'd have had the DESIRE allright, but, a pre-ass-whipping nap would probably have been necessary.

Roger sprang into action, grabbed the dog deterrant spray we ALWAYS carry with us (side note here - when your dog gets her butt kicked as often as Layla does, you learn to ALWAYS pack heat) and managed to chase the momma dog off.

We called Animal Control and they responded quickly, capturing Momma Dog and hauling her to the shelter. Now, you're probably wondering about the puppies...I know I was. The Animal Control Officer assured me the puppies were old enough to "fend for themselves" - uh huh - and he was going to be out bright and early in the morning to set traps to catch them.

Okay...All Aboard The Guilt Express - thank God I'm ALWAYS packed and ready to jump on the Guilt Train!! Of course, I didn't sleep last night for worrying about those feral little bundles of trouble and, of course, the FIRST thing Layla and I did this morning was crawl down the alley looking for them...poor Layla didn't realize I was using her for puppy bait. There's not a dog on this EARTH that doesn't wanna have a shot at Layla, probably because she's a natural blonde, is all I can think of, and I was counting on that fact. I figured we'd walk down the alley very slowly, pausing at critical "possible puppy hiding locations" and in a matter of minutes Layla would be besieged with a horde of Puppy Huns, bent on her destruction.

Didn't happen. Which is a good thing, seeing as how I'd sworn a blood oath to Roger that, "No, I'm NOT going to look for those puppies" and "No, those puppies WILL NOT be in our house when you get home tonight". Isn't it cute that, after almost 21 years of marriage he STILL BELIEVES me when I promise things like that? Gotta love a man who gleefully embraces the Ignorance Is Bliss mantra and takes it to heart. That right there probably EXPLAINS our almost 21 year marriage.

I can Ignorance Is Bliss with the best of them when it suits me, and right now, I'm stationed in a nice little place I like to call "Melindaville", where the theme for the day is: "Animal Control was out here EARLY this morning and those puppies are now lounging at the shelter, bathed, fed and loved on, currently awaiting to screen the MILE LONG line of people just FIGHTING over them".

Melindaville is truly a beautiful place and, unfortunately, the Guilt Train Express doesn't stop here often enough.

I was thinking today about how my life has changed since the demon that is Alzheimer's has stolen my sweet mother.

Ever since I grew up and moved out, I've called my mother every morning of my life...yeah, I know, talk about your apron strings. But, it's just always the way I started my day and, while sometimes I resented taking the time to call, I was always glad I did.

The conversation always started the same way, I'd call and Daddy would answer the phone. I'd chat with him for MAYBE 30 seconds and then ask to speak to Mother. That's where the REAL conversation would begin. We'd talk about the issues most important to her and me, and we'd offer each other advice. Mine was usually the "take no prisoners and burn down the village" type and hers was always the much wiser, actually helpful "maybe you should try this" type. I always took her advice and everything always worked out. Fortunately for her, she NEVER took mine.

I can't remember when that conversation shifted to me speaking only to my father. I truly can't remember the day when I called and DIDN'T ask to talk to Mother, because, basically, mother isn't able to carry on a phone conversation now. At least not one that goes beneath the surface level. Mother's phone conversations now follow a predictable pattern. They begin with her saying "Who is this? Oh, well how are you? I'm just cleaning the house." My precious mother hasn't cleaned her house or cooked a meal in several years..those tasks are beyond her now.

Now, my morning phone calls are to my father, and they're just as predictable. Daddy wakes up at the crack of dawn, fixes his coffee, makes breakfast, and reads the paper. He knows I'll be calling around 7:00, so he waits to dress Mother until after he's talked to me.

I call and ask what he's doing and get the same daily rundown. I know his routine now, like I USED to know my Mother's. I know he has a cup of coffee first thing in the morning, then fixes breakfast and reads the paper, saving the Sports Section for last. After that it's time to tackle the task of getting Mother bathed and dressed for the day. I give him a brief rundown of my plans for the day and he always asks if the boys are up yet and what the dog is doing.

The conversation always ends the same way, with me saying "I'd better run and get my chores done." Daddy will reply, "Why don't you walk, instead, you might hurt yourself if you run." Then we sign off with "I love you's" and he always says the line that just breaks my heart and makes me hate myself a little more each day. The last thing my Daddy says to me each day is "Come to see us." Which, I won't do, if I can avoid it at all. My parents live in a special kind of Hell, where each day is, AT BEST, as bad as the day before and, AT WORST, even more horrible than yesterday.

I've questioned my father's refusal to put my mother in an Assisted Living Facility, and I truly don't know the REAL reasons why he refuses. Basically, I think it's rooted in finances and I also feel that he would be lost without having her to care for every day. It gives his life purpose and, I can imagine it's so hard to start a new life at the ripe old age of 85.

One thing is for sure, though. Even IF his motives are selfish, he is doing a job which most people wouldn't do. He's not doing it perfectly, but he's doing the best he can. I've always respected my father for many things, his intelligence, his ability to provide for his family, his willingness to undertake the raising of a niece and nephew, just to name a few. This last phase in his and mother's lives has given me a new level of respect for my father. We may not agree on the way he's going about it, but he's caring for Mother in a way that, truthfully, I never thought he was capable of. He's risen to the occasion and I truly admire him for that.

I still miss my daily Mommy time, though, and I know now, that I always will.

I awoke this morning to the sound of birds singing. One bird in particular, one happy, happy, loud and annoying bird. We slept with the windows open last night and, at the bright hour of 6:00 a.m. a little feathered "friend" decided it was time to trill his version of "Oh What A Beautiful Morning!" Pissed me right off and if I'd have had a gun, he'd be singing in that great bird choir in the sky.

Okay, in my quest to lead a more relaxed, less stressful, more grateful life, I decided to embrace this pain in the ass and try to appreciate the beauty of nature. Those who know me, know where this is going.

So, I listened to the birdsong and tried to figure out what type of birds this particular Mockingbird was imitating. There were all types of different sounds, but none sounded like any bird I'd ever heard. There were beeps, whistles, sirens...sirens? SIRENS? I listened closer and sure enough an identifiable pattern began to emerge. This particular emmisary from Hell was doing a bang up job of imitating a CAR ALARM!!

Yep, that's right, folks, a car alarm, complete with the beep, beep, beep, click, click, click, woo woo, woo woo, woo woo. I'm telling you, this bird had the whole thing DOWN. If I could have trained him I'd have had a working car alarm on my 8 year old piece of junk car.

Yep, I think it's so important for all of us to take a minute and enjoy the beauty of the nature that surrounds us, and the day I hear a squirrel tap out my garage door code with an acorn is the day I am OUT OF HERE!

complete strangers come up to you at the grocery store and make comments like "I wish I was going home with YOU!"

Now, some of you (mostly the people who don't KNOW me) will think, "Wow, she must be really HOT!" The rest of you (the ones who DO know me) are thinking "They must be talking about the amount of groceries she has in her cart!" If you're thinking groceries, you're right.

I fix dinner five nights a week, and with a husband and two, COUNT 'EM TWO, teenage boys, it's no surprise my grocery bill ranges between $150.00 and $200.00 a week. Wait a minute, I just experienced a sharp pain in my head...okay, better now.

What gets me is, apparently, I'm in the minority of people who actually PURCHASE and COOK food. I mean, I see people wandering around the store with, like cranberry juice and lunchmeat in their little baskets and I think "That's IT...that's what you're gonna EAT?" Meanwhile, I'm wrestling with the defective cart from Hell, you know, the one that has the backwheels locked in place so in order to turn into the next aisle you have to DRAG the entire back end around? Uh huh, try THAT with a cart-load and see if you don't get a workout..."Curves" can kiss my ass!

And what about the women who have those mammoth coupon organizers in the baby-seat part of the basket. Now look, y'all, not too many people are more organized than I am, but PLEASE, how in the world does somebody utilize one of those monsters? I don't really think they do, if you'll notice, they RARELY have any actual FOOD in their carts. Nope, I think they just slap that coupon behemoth thing in the seat and then proceed to wander around the store, trying to look oh-so-efficient and thrifty.

Meanwhile, their husbands are trying to come home with ME!