Three dog night in the Land of Cotton

It’s been a three-dog weekend for me here in the Land of Cotton. No, I’m not referencing the frigid temps and snow flurries that have turned Dixie and much of the rest of the country into a winter wasteland.

I mean, literally, it’s been a three-dog weekend. The lovely Miss Wendy and I had the grand opportunity to take care of our grand-doggies – Joey, Maggie and Ella Rufus. The canines', um, parents – that would be my darling daughter and son-in-law – were away for a few days and asked if we’d handle the brood.

Truth to tell, I’ve always wanted to be leader of the pack and this seemed like a good opportunity to woof it up. We spent the first evening with weekend pals, Susan and John, taking advantage of Lauren and Josh’s state-of-the-art entertainment system, watching “It’s A Wonderful Life” and watching Joey, Maggie and Ella enjoying their doggie lives.

We snacked on popcorn; the canines settled for dog biscuits and lots of attention. It’s probably worth mentioning that Joey, a golden retriever, and Maggie, a black lab, collectively weigh more than I do; and if they ever learn to walk upright they will easily be able to rest their front paws on my hairless noggin.

Highlight of the evening had to be when we all trotted off to bed – just to set the record straight, Susan and John had already said their goodbyes. Miss Wendy and I were settling in for the evening when Ella, 15 pounds of mostly hair – she’s a Westy-Shih Tzu mix – joined us, then Maggie called dibs on the middle of the bed, wiggling herself into a snuggly position, then resting her head on my chest.

I was about to push her aside when she glanced at me with one of those innocent doggy looks that got my attention and had me thinking a bit about karma and what my future might look like if I kicked her out of bed.

Fortunately, Joey was happy to curl up on his oversized doggy pillow. That changed the next night when Wendy left me alone with the dogs and they all decided to join me in bed. I learned that dogs do, in fact, snore – long and loud! I hadn’t heard such a ruckus since my days in the army.

Joey – did I mention he’s the size of a Shetland pony – also kept getting up and walking around a bit, following his tail, trying to find that sweet, comfortable spot that always seemed to be on the other side of the bed.

I also learned that if you’re the head of the pack, you might have the best view of the world, but whatever you do – get up for a drink of water, go to the bathroom, grab a book or magazine – there’s a really good chance that the members of your pack will want to join you.

They can also talk. Word choices are limited – hey, they’re dogs – and mostly focus on food, water and treats, pooping and esoteric details involving the licking of one’s genetalia!

Here’s another bit of useful info I learned over the weekend. It turns out “Three Dog Night” is much more than a rock band from the late 1960s. When it’s cold – I’m talking bone-chilling cold – it’s a toasty good thing to have three dogs around to keep you warm.