After my father died, the constant treadmill of running back and forth to The Land That Time Forgot and here came to a thankful end. And I don't mean that in any disrespect to my father - Lord knows, I would've gone to the end of the earth and back every hour of every day if he needed me - but that road between here and there isn't one that I particularly relish.
My lucky sister, Kathie, lives yet another 45 minutes north of me. She had even more delight added on to her trip. At one point, we were both going on the same weekends, then as he rallied we'd swap off on weekends.
As he left us, we were left with all this time on our hands. And my brother-in-law, with idle hands being the Devil's playground, had been surfing the internet looking for whippets. As in dogs. (All perverts sign off here, 'kay?)
I guess he never had pets as a kid - and he is in all honesty a great guy, a wonderful doctor, but a different breed. Which is probably how he became attracted to sight hounds like borzois, greyhounds, and whippets. There have been many of them in their family since he and my sister married, with varying success.
I think this time, they've met their match. He found a beguiling little lady down in North Carolina named Amy. The week after my father died, he conned my sister into traveling down to see her and of course my sister (sucka!) fell totally in love with her. She is a real beauty and just as sweet as she can be.
All I can say is it's probably not a good idea to fall for the dog that the breeder has named Devil Dog.
Amy has eaten my brother-in-law's eyeglasses, his Blackberry, one shoe out of seven different pairs of shoes, an elevated sprinkler head out in the yard, who knows how many toys, and the motherlode of all dog fodder:
The feet of the Baby Jesus. Yes, she ate the feet of the Baby Jesus after she managed to pull him out of the Nativity set. Devil Dog strikes again.
Unfortunately, poor Amy and her big greyhound brother Teddy (who, by the way, is so big that he can literally eat a stick of butter off the middle of a table without making any serious effort or moving anything on the table) got giardia - they have no idea how but the poor pups have been miserably sick. So for at least a few days while she's been feeling punky, my sister's house has been free from destruction.
All I can say is that I can't wait to see what she does to the Easter Bunny. If the Baby Jesus isn't safe, then who is?