Dog Days of Summer

Anyone who knows me knows that I’m obsessed with dogs. Ruby, my family’s Chesapeake Bay Retriever, was almost 13 when she passed away. And while she was a huge part of the family, she preferred to spend her time swimming, running and getting dirty outdoors. It wasn’t until my college roommate Beth returned from home one weekend with Archie the coon hound, that I was introduced to the concept of an “inside dog.”

[Sidenote: You may be thinking, “She just showed up with a dog?” But, you have to understand, Beth is probably the most random, spontaneous person I know. One summer she bought a Pot Belly Pig at the All Good Music Festival. It’s a good thing someone talked her into returning it—if I was there I would have probably gotten one too!]

And although Archie was a little too big to be a lapdog, you definitely couldn’t tell him that. The bigger he got, the more he wanted to sit right on your lap. Dogs on the couch? Dogs eating people food? This opened my eyes to a whole new world of canine companionship!

When I moved home after college, I immediately started bugging my parents to get a dog. Luckily, in September ’05, my mom found a puppy on the side of the road. He had obviously been dropped off by someone who didn't want him. He was skinny, hungry, dirty, and he had a horrible gash on his tail. She and I fell in love immediately. My dad? Not so much... He found the new puppy downright annoying. He wanted a big tough dog that would ride in the back of his pick up truck, wade through the mud, and join him on 10 mile hikes through the Appalachian wilderness. Meanwhile, the new puppy pranced and hopped around in a very feminine way, and proudly sported the brightly colored bandanas I dressed him up in each day. To top it off, he was petrified of the truck, he wouldn't go near it!

There was absolutely nothing rugged about him and according to my dad—the puppy had to go!

However, my mom is not the kind of person who gives in easily. What she wants, she gets, so long story short—the puppy stayed! He was named Duke Dog, after my sister’s school mascot, The JMU Duke Dawg. Duke has come a long way since his puppy days, and he still has a long way to go. He’s been through Puppy Kindergarten, Puppy Prep School and a 1-week, private, Dog-Training Boot Camp, and he still won’t listen. He pretty much does whatever the hell he wants, and my parents don’t necessarily try to stop him. They’ve already worn themselves out raising my sister and I... Classic “Third Child Syndrome.”

To give you an idea of what a day with Duke is like, I decided to share some pictures from the last time my mom and I took Duke Dog for a walk around the Lake. As usual, he was a handful. If I could bottle up his energy and sell it, I would be one rich girl. Think adderall, red bull, vodka and Prosac—all mixed up into one energy drink!

Here is video of Duke doing what he does best....

Acting INSANE!