Yard Dogs

Yard Dogs are part of Life in the Country.
When you a) live in the country b) have small children who eat weenies and cookies outside and c) start feeding the stray dogs, they suddenly go from Stray Dogs to Your Dogs.

So, for the last few months, we've aquired quite a little yard dog menagerie. We've got a huge white terrier/corgi thing called Snowball. (We think she technically belongs to our next door neighbor, but she sleeps and eats here at Casa Johnson.)

Her little buddy is a brown and white Jack Russell that the kids have named Biscuit. I don't know where he resided before, but Biscuit is clearly Carter Johnson's Dog. They are having the sort of love affair that only a 5-yr-old boy and a dog can have.

And then the true stray who came up starving to death and now looks like a really skinny lab/German Sheppard thing is Peanut. Okay then.

They follow us to church and stay under the church bus waiting on us to come out after service. They bark when the UPS man pulls in the drive way. They let the kids sit on them, pet them, snuggle them, feed them, pull them, push them, etc. It's quite a show. I like Yard Dogs. (Mostly because they aren't House Dogs.)

I've got the windows and doors open. Mother is napping. The twins and Carter and two little friends are jumping on the trampoline in the backyard. And Lily is outside the doorway of the screen porch (where I'm writing this) trying to push Biscuit into a box three sizes to small for him and he's wagging his tail and trying to lick her face. She is stomping around and shoving him with both hands. She just stood up and huffed her bangs out of her eyes and said, "Get in that box, you id-yeee-it!" I'm pretty sure that's "idiot" in Lily-speak. :-) Funny.