Pippin liked the move. He liked sitting in my lap and riding in the car...

Gee, I don’t think I’ve gone this long without posting ever! But I’ve got a really good excuse; I haven’t had a computer. You see, we just moved from right near Houston in Texas, up to Nebraska, only a short drive from the South Dakota border. Yeah, it was a long move. Traveling with us were nine goats, all due to kid in less than a month, and one big horse. So, as you can guess I’ve been very busy, and even though we’ve been here about a month, our internet service was finally installed yesterday. Oh, and if any of y’all from IG Post are reading this, that’s why I haven’t fulfilled my promise to let y’all know about the Iggy sweater pattern. Since it’s been so long since I posted at IG Post as well, I’ve lost my active status. *sigh* So, I’ll fix all that as soon as I am able. Whew.

Anyway, Pippin was pretty good, actually I can’t think of anything he did wrong, and he always likes riding in the car, thank heavens. And yes, all our goats and the horse rode safely and there were no aborted kids. Now all the goats have kidded, except one, and we think she didn’t get bred anyway, since she’s kind-of old. All are healthy, even the preemie triplets we had. Now, they’re growing and thriving, and they’re such sweet babies!

Seeing new sights...

We unloaded some of our stuff into a storage building right here on the property, to keep it out of the way until we needed it. When my Mom was ready for some of it, my brother and I would take a Mule to get it. We usually took turns driving it. Sometimes, there would be room in the back for the non-driving individual to sit down on the way back, otherwise we just stood up. But when we thought there’d be room, I took Pippin with me. Pippin decided he really liked riding in the trunk of the Mule. At first, I was rather afraid he would dislike the bumping and the sliding around on the metal floor, so I held him when I rode in the back. But no, he liked it, so I took him with me even when I went by myself and there was nobody to hold him. I could even drive full speed and he wouldn’t mind! So when I got down to the metal building, I would climb out and say to him, “Stay there Pip,” and walk into the shop, as it is better known. When I came out, arms full, Pippin would still be there, looking around with pricked ears, or sniffing the air. He moved out of my way when I set the heavy stuff down and waited while I went back to get more. He’s such a great companion! I couldn’t help but laugh at him skidding around in the back as I went over the bumpy ground, or when he bounced off the floor when we hit a rather hard lump. I just knew he’d crack his little leg on the metal frame and knock all the enthusiasm out of him, even when I was really careful like I was at first, but no, he never did. It really makes me laugh when he shows so much toughness (comparatively), because he likes to pretend to be so vulnerable and innocent.  Well, sometimes, that is.  And, it makes me laugh how much hardiness he can display when there’s something he really wants.  For instance, there was the dewberry incident…

Oh yeah, and getting the seat all to himself in the sun.

In our old house, before we got goats, we had a lot of brush.  For the most part, the brush was in the way and scratchy and just begging to be got rid of. Notice, I said, “for the most part”. That’s because in some places, the brush was dewberry vines. Sweet, wild, fecund, dewberry vines. So my siblings and I, accompanied by the Pip-ster, would go out there and pick dewberries. We, of course, ate quite a few of the dewberries while we picked, and Pippin sniffed around and sunned himself on the soft sandy ground. However, all of Pippin’s by-himself activities ceased when somebody, I can’t remember who, either me or my youngest sister, gave him a dewberry. “Ooooh! yummy!” cried Pippin, and then he was at our feet, hoping for more. We gave him a few, but not enough for his liking. I don’t know how he figured out where we got the dewberries. Maybe somebody showed him, but I’m pretty sure he watched us reach gingerly into the thorns and pluck the juicy berries and put them into the buckets. The next thing I knew, Pippin was wading in the thorns, and eating the dewberries right off the vine! He would gingerly poke his nose past the thorns and carefully pull the berries off and eat them! We were all laughing at him, and then we started showing him berries that were rather old, or had been partly eaten by bugs, in general ones we wouldn’t eat ourselves, so he could eat them. But he found plenty of good ones himself! So, for the rest of the afternoon, all five of us picked dewberries together. Later, at dinner, we told our parents the story, Pippin fast asleep on his rug, worn out. But when I picked him up after dinner, I made a discovery; Pippin’s pink, nearly hairless chest (I call him “macho man” for it) was covered in criss-crossing scratches from the vines! And the dog who screams at the sound of a hand clap when he has a guilty conscience, the dog who claims that a lightly trodden on paw is the end of the world, the dog who must be comforted after his “wounds” have been taken (says he), hadn’t made a sound!! What “sacrifice“! rofl! It’s amazing what he’s willing to do for food! lol!

Pippin in the clean hay just before loading the animals for the road.

For these reasons, I call Pippin my Posh-Dog-Gone-Country, and it is hilarious to watch this “posh dog” do things like a “country dog” and see the effects. So, now we’ll just do it all in Nebraska, and we call ourselves “transplanted Texans”, or the “Texas embassy”. =D hee hee! See y’all later!

One of my John Hancock's on IG Post.

Zeke is my cat, whom some of you have already heard about in other posts. He is a big, muscular tabby, who loves to eat. I know, a cat who loves to eat? But he’s got a story behind that, which I’ve told here if you read down; http://screamincutie.wordpress.com/2008/02/04/my-hams We also have two other cats, brother and sister, who’s names are Jack and Jill. Jack is a grey striped little cat, but Jill is even smaller than Jack. She’s a petite calico girly-girl, so feminine and sweet. She’s a cutie, but you’d never guess how good a huntress she is. We should have called her Diana, I guess. The little creature hunts everything, and brings it in close to the house. She’s caught mice, moles and gophers, but her biggest prize by far was the rabbit, at least twice as big as herself! I was the first human to see it, and I could claim to have found her slain prize myself, yet actually it was Pippin who found it. But he still was not the first to find it.

As I have said before, Zeke loves food. As most of you already know, PIppin also loves food. Pippin will eat anything and everything. I took him outside to relieve himself, and when he finished I called him to me and started walking towards the front door. Knowing where we were going, Pippin didn’t come with me right by my side. Instead he took a shorter route around a flower bed that passes a grassy alley between our house and our detached garage. In front of that pass there is a magnolia tree, and when Pippin moved across the opening, he was hidden from my sight by the tree. As it was, I didn’t realize he had gone down that alley until I heard a cat hiss violently, then Pippin shrieked. It was a shriek of complete, blind, and raging fury. I mean, he was mad. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him that angry before. Naturally, I was alarmed, and was at the alley just in time to see Pippin chase Zeke out of sight around the back of the house. He was barking wildly and non-stop. I ran through the alley towards him and saw the rabbit, lying upon the grass in the shade. But though I marveled, Pippin was still making a racket so I hardly slowed down to get to him. When I got there, I asked him what was wrong. He was digging with a vengeance under the porch, yipping his shrill, infuriated yells of anger. I knew then that was where Zeke was hiding. Telling Pippin to back up, which he did at my command, I peered under the porch. But Zeke was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, I picked Pippin up and started back towards the house. Pippin had always liked Zeke. He would sniff him in a very friendly way, and Zeke didn’t mind him too very much. He was never mean, and since Zeke didn’t run, Pip didn’t chase him.

But when I picked Pippin up, the mystery was explained. His neck was turning purple and swelling at an alarming rate. Apparently, Zeke had been eating the rabbit and Pippin, drawn to the food came to share it with him. PIppin had no food aggression whatsoever, and I know that the offensive move was made by Zeke. Or rather, the defensive move. Zeke must have thought that Pippin was stealing his food, though there was more than enough for both of them, if we were going to let them eat it. So Zeke attacked Pippin, clawing at his “delicate” throat. Pippin, startled and infuriated, chased him off, showing himself less of a coward then some of my family thought. Zeke had clawed his jugular vein, and it was bleeding underneath the skin.

Fortunately, it wasn’t bad at all, just an ugly bruise for about a week, but ever since then, Pippin and Zeke’s relationship has been very strained, to say the least. ;-D

Pippin is quite ridiculous, as you probably well know, but just recently we’ve found something out that really has me rolling my eyes.

There are times, when something happens and for some odd reason will make Pippin mad. It can be something as little as losing the toy in a tug-of-war. He’s a very bad sport, you know. When that happens, I can tell him to stop and be quiet, and he will, though he sometimes complains a little. But he doesn’t obey my siblings like he does me. Just about a week ago, my youngest sister was holding him. I don’t exactly remember what she was doing, but for some reason, Pippin was mad, and was struggling and complaining and fussing in her arms. Then, for some reason, she bent her head and gave him a kiss on the head. Immediately, Pippin calmed down! He settled back down peacefully! Amazed, I decided to test this discovery to see if it was coincidence, or more then that. A few days later, Pippin lost a game of tug-of-war, and he lost his temper at the same time. The silly thing about that, is that it’s always Pippin who’s daring us to try and take his toy, hoping to start a game of tug-of-war. Why he keeps trying, when he knows he can’t win, I’m not sure. It may have something to do with our being nice to him and letting him have it sometimes, but then again it may not. Anyway, Pippin was in a rage, growling and making his shrill yippy-sounding bark, the sound he makes when he’s mad. Now, I could have stopped it with a command, but instead I yelled “Kiss him! Kiss him!!!”, and my youngest sister caught him up (to a chorus of angry barks at the intrusion on his tirade) and smacked her lips on his head. Sure enough, Pippin went from a wild rage, to a happy and satisfied little creature, sitting in my sister’s lap, perfectly content. Ridiculus, I know, but it’s true. Every time it happens, and he’s changed from “vicious” to happy, I roll my eyes, or laugh, either one. Crazy, isn’t it? From the lion, to the lamb. Transformed, by a kiss. Goofy, and rather rotten too. Don’t you think?

I think that Pippin understands more about us humans then some might be inclined to think. For instance:

 

Pippin does not like being shot at with a toy gun. When my brother points the gun at him, he leaps up and barks, growling at it. But then, his tail’s wagging the whole time. He knows it won’t hurt him, but he seems to know what it’s supposed to do. How, I really don’t know! 

He knows about arrows too. I have a little 9 inch tall bow that is black, and does not bend, the string is a wimpy bungee cord. It came with three little plastic arrows, colored bright red and yellow, the ends are suction cups, and it has little bity things on the other end that are supposed to be feathers, but are plastic and are only a quarter of an inch tall at the highest point. I’m not exactly sure where we got it, but it had been sitting in our garage forever, so I rescued it. I have this thing about bows, you see. One day I’ll get a real one, but for now, the cheap-o toy makes do. Because it has suction cups, and has very little force when it flys, my siblings and I started trying to shoot one another, standing still while the other ran around. Oh, the things people think of when they are bored! Pippin, always eager to play, found the running person very interesting. Being a sighthound, he ran after the sibling, barking and growling playfully. Needless to say, he got annoying, and he wouldn’t listen to orders of “quiet” for very long. I’m not sure he could help it. The running person turned on all his instincts. Anyhow, since he wouldn’t get out of the way- whisht! I shot him with the arrow. He was very surprised, but completely unhurt. He didn’t even pretend to be hurt, and that is something in itself! After that, it became a game. He would bark at us when he saw the string being pulled back with an arrow on it, pointing in his direction. He would run and hide when he could, but if not, he would run up straight to the lion’s mouth, as they say, and bite at the end of the arrow! He did this, because he knows that we won’t shoot him at that close a range! He barked, and growled, wagging his tail and having fun. He even stole my arrows when they hit the ground! He’d grab them up and run away! He likes playing with bows and arrows. See why Pippin and I have so much fun together? We even share the same interests! LOL!

He learned the same thing about rubber-bands. I was shooting my brother with them, because he thought I couldn’t (I did!), and Pippin quickly learned what a rubber-band could do when stretched out between two fingers. At first, he merely squinted his big eyes, with an expression so cute, I just started laughing, but I never shot when he was turned towards me, as I didn’t want to hit his little face. He charged rubber-bands too, barking and wagging his tail the whole time. When the rubber-band hit the floor, he dove for it, trying to get it before we did, but I always either got it first, or he dropped it. He played the game with us, just as good a sport as one of us!

He plays another game really well too. You know the game some people play with babies, where the big person pertends to “eat” the baby? I’ve done it to many a baby, because it never seems to fail to bring up giggles. I had no idea that my sisters were doing that to Pippin, until a few weeks ago. I watched, as my youngest sister held Pippin, and proceeded to “eat” him. “Um num num num! Mmm, you taste good! UUM num num num num num!” To my astonishment, Pippin lifted his lips and bared his teeth and began to bark and growl, but all in play! His tail was wagging, and later he was perfectly happy to cuddle with her, unlike he would if she had “hurt his feelings” or made him mad. He would sulk. But no! He liked it! It was as if he was saying “You can’t eat me! I’m a big tough dog, and I wouldn’t taste good anyway. Leave me alone!” but was play-acting it. I could only laugh. Then when I tried it, he turned his head and growling, began to “eat” me, gently putting his teeth on my cheek and pretending to chew!

The longer I have Pippin, the more I love him and realize how perfectly he fits our family, fits me. I thank God nearly everyday for the gift I have from him in PIppin. He is so good.

Just a little bit ago, I was sitting on my bed knitting. I knew Pippin was behind me, buried in my pillows, so when I heard him moving around, I didn’t even turn around and look at him. He often shifts places, and the scratching noise I heard was also normal. It meant he was probably scratching away the pillows so he could get underneath them. But when I heard a thump on the floor, I turned to look at him. I didn’t exactly see PIppin himself, what I saw was my big, long, king-sized pillow on the ground, leaping and flopping like a mad thing. It would seem, that Pippin, in search of a blankie, or something close to it, got into the pillow case, and snuggled up to the pillow, under a “blankie”. But then, he decided that he wanted out. So, he began to make his way out, but he went the wrong way! He was trapped! So he fought, and struggled, until he forced the pillow on the ground (I’m laughing right now at the very fresh memory!). He did land pillow-down, so he didn’t hurt himself, he was just a little frightened. I could just sit there and laugh, rocking back and forth on the bed, while the pillow went crazy! Poor Pip, but he didn’t cry. Finally, he paused for a few moments. I rather think he was settling down to think it out. Then, my youngest sister came in, and bent down, and lightly tapped Pippin on the rump. Pippin gave a leap, and bolted; just the right direction to blast out of the pillow-case. LOLOLOL!!

Pippin wasn’t too traumatized after his experience, he just settled right back down in the pillows. “Ah well. All’s well that ends well, that’s what I say.” rofl! This dog cracks me up!

I know that y’all know that Pippin is very jealous of our goats. Personally, I find it hilarious, and since I keep thinking about this incident, I thought I’d share it with y’all…

 

A few years back, when we had our “baby crop”, as we call our herd of goat kids, we were letting all our goats into the back yard to eat things. Don’t get me wrong, they had close supervision. There were many bushes and things that were off limits, and the goats were not allowed to eat them. We were doing this during a drought, because our back yard (which is a full acre) was watered every week, and it was growing much better then the pasture. Those of you who have read Pippin’s Page on the rescue site (in my links) will remember that my Mom mentioned; “He herds the animals when asked & protects certain plants when the goats are loose.”, direct quote. Well, it was during the back yard goat dinners that he did that. It was very humourous! We laughed at him, and cheered him on gaily. I think he was pleased with his power, being so little he doesn’t get to be the boss very often, not to mention the fact that he got to be the center of attention at the same time!

But, sadly, he was not the center of attention all the time. Like I said, this was while we still had a baby crop, and they were old enough that they were eating too a little. They were (and are, though no longer babies!) so cute, that it was a joy to watch them and make sure they ate nothing wrong. My Mom had the priviledge at the moment. They were over at the side of the house, and on the house were some scraggly creepers that really needed to be cut down anyway. So my Mom let the babies nibble on that, smiling at them, and telling them how cute they were, and all that. Not that I blame her. I’ve yet to see anyone who could take one glance at a goat kid and not say “How cute!”, and I am no exeption. ; ) Anyway, Pippin came wandering up. The goats were being well behaved, his services were not needed,  he was bored, and he was feeling unappreciated, and jealous.

“Those great big mooses are getting all my people’s attention, and even though they’re naughty, and clumsy, ugly, and brainless, for some alien reason, they’re getting petted, talked to, cooed over, and all that nonsense. Now why don’t they do that to me? I’m an excelent helper, graceful, handsome and very, very smart. So then, what can I do to get them to look at me also? I’m cute too, you know!” His thoughts were displayed by his actions. First, he walked over to my Mom, reared up, and put his paws on her, stretching luxuriously. That is one of his ways of begging for notice, and hopefully a stroke on the head to boot. But my Mom told him “down”, and didn’t pet him. He got down obediently, but was still determined to show that he was every bit as cute as a goat. He turned around and eyed the kids resentfully. My Mom paid him no more heed. But, the next thing she knew, Pippin was amongst the kids, reaching up and gingerly pulling leaves off the vine! He pulled them off, tossed his head a little (just like the goats did), and then dropped it (which the goats did not do). Then he plucked another leaf, and pretended to eat it, then dropped it on the ground! My Mom was laughing, and yes, she told Pippin he was cute too. I guess he was. rofl!

To this day, if she talks about that incident, she will still laugh, and frankly so do I. I only wish that I was there to see it too… Life is so not fair, isn’t it?

Wow! I havn’t been on the computer in a week! No, more than a week! I don’t even know what was the last day I was on. Oh well.

Lately, I’ve been writing a fair amount of short stories about Pippin. I thought I’d like to share one with y’all, and see what you think! My sibilings think they’re wonderful, but then again, they think all my stories are wonderful. So, here goes;

William Tell; Don’t Shoot the Dog!   

“I Don’t want to! I won’t!” said Pippin stubbornly.

“Well, you’ve got to.” said DoRight. “Since you can’t be trusted, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, and since I’m the director and lead actor of this play, I have to be here, which automatically translates into you having to be here with me. We need somebody to be the son, and you’re the smallest, so, you’re got to be him!”

“No I don’t!” protested Pippin, “I don’t want you shooting at me!”

“I won’t be, Pippin! Just the apple!.”

“But you’ll miss.” said Pippin, “And then what happens to me?”

“Nothing! Even if I do miss, it’s only got suction cups on it, so it won’t even hurt.”

“Oh yes it will!” cried Pippin, flushing with indignation, “I’d poke my eyes out! And then you’d be sorry!”

“It won’t poke your eye out, Pip” said DoRight, in a tone that clearly said Oh Brother.

“Yes it will! And then-!”

A blast of music interrupted him.

“That’s it! The play’s about to start!” cried DoRight, “Know your lines?” he asked Pippin.

“Lines? What lines? I’m not-”

“Yes you are!” interrupted DoRight fiercely, “You’re being the son if I have to drag you on the stage! When we go, it’s up to you, whether you say your lines, or embarrass yourself. ‘Choose for you, this day’!”

Pippin gulped. He knew DoRight meant business. Hurriedly he dropped his gaze to the script in his paw.

“You’ve got 5 minutes to learn that.” said DoRight.

Pippin muttered something inaudible, but diligently studied his lines.

 

Fortunately, there weren’t very many lines to learn, and when DoRight and Pippin- or William Tell and son –went out on the stage, Pippin’s lines were delivered with so much grace and ease, one would never guess he had just learned them.

Everything went well, until it came time for the soldiers to take the son and tie him up to the tree. As they laid their paws on Pippin’s shoulders, panic seized him. He did not want to be shot.

“No! No! Don’t touch me! You can’t! You can’t make me!” he shrieked, and twisted in the bigger dogs’ grip, trying desperately to get away.

This was not in the script, and the soldiers kept giving DoRight glances. Now what? DoRight had to do something fast.

“Be still my son,” said DoRight, making up the words on the spot. “There comes a time in everydog’s life when he must face the fury of the storm like a rock in the sea. We can face it with that strength, because we have our trust in God. Be still, and know that he is God, my son.” He gave Pippin a meaningful look, and Pippin cringed visibly.

            Trembling, he allowed the soldiers to tie him to the prop tree, and set the apple on his head. He watched apprehensively as DoRight pulled back the string of the bow.

            What he didn’t know, was that at that moment, DoRight was thinking about what Pippin had said earlier.

            “It’d poke my eye out!”

            “No it wouldn’t,” DoRight had responded. Now, looking down the shaft of the plastic arrow, Pippin’s head was not that much bigger then the stuffed apple. It would be so easy to miss…

            But it wouldn’t hurt me if I got hit in the face! thought DoRight. No it wouldn’t. Said another thought. But Pippin’s a wimp. Really! He can’t help it! He was born weak! So what would happen if I did hit him?

            DoRight swallowed nervously. He didn’t know, and he really didn’t want to find out. He hated to make his people angry, and if he hurt Pippin, there would be plenty of reason to for them to get mad. He was supposed to watch Pippin, and keep him safe! Not poke his eye out!

            DoRight drew a deep breath, and let fly the arrow.

            Pippin gasped and shut his eyes tight. There was a faint thunk, and when he opened his eyes, the arrow had entered the slit prepared for it and was drooping down ‘till it nearly touched his nose.

            The crowd erupted in cheers and clapping and shouts of hurrah! And Pippin breathed a sigh of relief, simultaneous with DoRight’s.

 

            After the play was ended, DoRight, Pippin, and all of the cast went down and signed autographs. Pippin was pleased with the attention, and he signed his autograph with a huge smile on his face.

            A beautiful Chihuahua came walking up with a shirt in her paw. She sniffed, and rubbed a paw across her mascara-plastered eyes, then smiled at Pippin.

            “Will you sign this for me?” It was a souvenir shirt with the name of the play on it; William Tell.

            “Sure!” said Pippin, glad to oblige.

As he signed the shirt, the Chihuahua spoke.  “You’re my favorite.”

Pippin looked up, shocked. “Really?”

“Oh, yes! You’re such a good actor!” now she was beginning to gush, “When you were fighting to free yourself from the soldiers, it looked so real, I thought you really were fighting them! My heart was pounding wildly! Oh, and when William said that, why, I burst into tears! What acting! What a hero he was, that son! So courageous!”

Pippin was blushing, but it was hidden under his red fur on his head. Yet, he was immensely pleased.

“Oh, thank you!” said the Chihuahua, when he was done, “I’ll-, I’ll tell all my friends, and, why, we’ll all come back together, and-, and watch it again!”

“Excellent!” said Pippin, in his charming way, “I shall be delighted to have you honor us with your presence once more! I look forward to the occasion.”

The Chihuahua giggled and blushed, and moved off to get more autographs. But there was little room left for them; Pippin had written his so big, it fair took up the entire back of the shirt!

 

Meanwhile, DoRight was signing a ticket for a male Boxer about his age.

“Great show,” the Boxer was saying, “You-all did a good job.”

DoRight nearly cringed at the “you-all” (which, to a southerner, is about the most irritating imitation of  “y’all” that was ever created), but he mastered his feelings and said “Thank you!” very politely.

“I especially liked the part where William is about to have to shoot the apple on his son’s head. That little squirt was a good actor, playing he was trying to get away like that. But that speech of yours, well, that really was the icing on the cake! That was great. You’re a great actor, and you’ve got a great script writer too.”

DoRight looked up. He didn’t know what to say. He was flabbergasted.

The Boxer continued, “And then when you pulled the string and were about to shoot, well, I really thought you were afraid to shoot!”

DoRight said nothing.

“You both looked scared, actually,” added the Boxer, “yeah man, you got a real show. Thanks dude!” He waved the ticket and walked off.

 

“Hey! Hey Do’!”

DoRight turned around. He was backstage, and it was Pippin talking.

“Hey, when do you plan to do this again?”

DoRight raised an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t want to do this?”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind.” said Pippin, in such a decided tone, it was almost annoying.

“Every Saturday for two months, if you wanna know.”

“Two months?! Oh, good!”

“What, you like it?” asked DoRight, surprised.

“Of course I do! I like to act, you know that!”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Oh, and, uh, DoRight?”

“Yeah?”

“I think they liked it.”

“Uh-huh… oh, Pippin?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t poke your eye out.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. No, you didn’t.”

   The End!

The other day, we had a family over to our house with two little girls. The oldest was about 10, and the youngest was 5. While the older one enjoyed playing with my sisters, the little one loved playing with Pippin. I had him do his tricks for them both, which are; BANG! (that is, flop over and play dead after I “shoot” him with my finger), Shake, High-five (self-explanatory those), and “Over”. “Over” has come to mean; Jump-over/through-anything-I-tell-you-to-jump, though at first I was only working towards getting him to jump through my arms. It was this trick that delighted the little girl the most. She loved to drop to her knees and touch her forehead to the floor and say “Over! Pip, over!” I would motion and say the command, and Pippin would go flying across her little back. Then she would get up and stretch her arms into a circle and say “Over! Hey, Pivot! Over!” (for some reason, at first she thought his name was Pivot, even though she knew his nick-name was Pip. Cute name though, isn’t it?). The problem was, she was wearing a wind-breaker, and her arms were tiny. Therefore, when she leaned over to make the biggest circle she could, the jacket puffed out and filled her tiny circle, so Pippin couldn’t see it! There was nothing to jump over as far Pippin could see. As a result, he didn’t do it. I tried to tell her about her jacket, but I’m not sure I did a good job… I was trying to tell her kindly, but I wanted to laugh. It was so funny! 

And so, a few days later, the family was going to stop by again. When they got there, the Mother told us what the little girl had been saying. “When are we going to Pippin’s house, Mommy? Are we going soon? Are we going to Pippin’s house?” LOL LOL LOL! ROFL!

Pippin loves food.

Pippin is smart.

Putting those two attributes together, we sometimes have some very interesting events happen around here. For instance, there was the time when Pippin ate the cookies…

Our family was all outside, for some reason, and I don’t remember why. Pippin got left inside. We had just been eating some of the last chocolate-chip cookies, made a few days ago. The cookies were left in a round glass container, and covered neatly with plastic wrap.  I came back inside, and guess what I found? Pippin on the table, head in the container. He ran when he saw me, but that’s not the whole of it; When I walked up, I found that Pippin had not torn the plastic wrap to get in it. Oh no. He had peeled it back, no rips. It was peeled about a fourth of the way back, and only one cookie was left. I could hardly believe my eyes. What a naughty dog! My eyes must have bugged out at the sight of that plastic wrap. Smarty!  I think he had eaten something like four cookies, I don’t remember exactly now, but a fair amount for a dog that only weighs 11 pounds!  

More recently, my youngest sister caught him with his paws on the counter, scratching at a huge platter with chicken on it, trying to make it flip over and fall to the floor…

But the most memorable time is the one that my Mom never fails to mention when Pippin’s naughtiness in the stealing area is brought up. We were having tacos, or something like that, something that requires a lot of cheese (with a family of six, two of which are adults, and two more are teenagers, we eat a lot). My Mom had grated 2 pounds of cheese – enough for other meals too.  She set the big bowl on the table and moved back into the kitchen to finish getting everything else ready. By the time she turned back into the dining room, Pippin had jumped on the table, and had had his scrawny head in the bowl, for who knows how long. My Mom gave a cry, and Pippin leapt from the table and ran. When she came and peered into the bowl, there was nothing left!!! Pippin had eaten 2 pounds of cheese!! Needless to say, he was punished, and then watched anxiously for days. Nothing adverse happened. We were concerned that we might have to take him to the vet for a blockage or something!

To this day, that piece of mischief still gets my Mom the most. I must admit, it makes me laugh when I think about it. What a bad dog! I guess I shouldn’t expect much else though. After all, he is an Iggy!

A little while ago, we were having some people over to our house. We had had kind of short notice, and so were busy putting the finishing touches to the cleaning, you know how that is. My youngest sister was trying to be helpful, and let Pippin out to do his business, but she didn’t know that the front gate had been opened to let our guests in.

So the first man comes, Mr. M-, and he has this big silver truck. He comes down the road, and who do you think he sees, standing in the road? Pippin, just staring at him. We live in the country, and on our street, we do have a speed limit, but most people ignore it, and just barrel down at whatever speed they choose. So Pippin was in a very dangerous spot, the little fool. So Mr. M- slowed down and stopped. He knew who Pippin was and who he belonged to. He opened the door to his truck, and leaned out and said, in a reproachful but kind sort-of way, “Get in here!”, and guess what? Pippin looked at him, then came trotting up- and jumped right in!

A few minutes later, my youngest sister came outside, seeing Mr. M- in the driveway, and she could tell Mr. M- was saying something to her, but the truck was so loud she couldn’t hear him. She thought he was saying something about Your Dog. So she went over, and what do you think she saw? Pippin, peering out the passenger side window, grinning and quite pleased with himself.

Mr. M- thought the whole thing very amusing, and he kept laughing over it, but although I can clearly see the humour in it (and must admit find it amusing as well), I also see the danger in it. That means that Pippin will jump in anyone’s car! But, that also means that if he somehow ever got lost, it wouldn’t be hard, and wouldn’t take long for someone to find him. I’ve heard of dogs that take weeks, even months for somebody to catch because they’re so skittish, and easily spooked. Pippin isn’t one of those dogs, apparently…

I’m still trying to figure out if this attribute is good or bad, but hey! only God knows, and God looks after Pippin far better then I ever can!