Ah, Lagniappe

You may have noticed that I don't write much about Lagniappe these days. It's mostly because since he can barely walk, we don't do much aside from sitting on the deck or taking naps on the bed. (Yes, he's allowed back up on my bed. Why not? He just wants to be close to me and I can't deny him that. Sadly, he even needs help getting up there now.)

Sometimes though, he still manages to make me laugh. Like yesterday, when he found an empty peanut butter jar that I'd tossed at the recycling box but missed. What's the rule? Oh yeah. "In the box, not his, on the floor, his." He grabbed the large plastic jar and was lying on the living room floor trying to get every last morsel of the peanut butter out of it when lo and behold, he managed to get his muzzle stuck in the jar. My only regret was that I couldn't get to a camera in time, but I'd undoubtedly have messed the shot up anyway, I was laughing so hard.

So I helped the silly dog get the jar off his nose (because what else are friends for?) and naturally he looked at me like it was somehow my fault.

He's still the warrior, though. Last night, the auto glass repair guy came over, and Lagniappe barked at him so territorially that he backed down the driveway again and called me on his cell phone to ask me if the dog bites?

"Well not until you get up here and get out of the van," I told him. I had to take him back in the house before the guy would come back, and even then he lay by the window and watched the guy like a hawk the whole time he was here.

Still the protector, at least in his own mind. Watch 'em, pal. I got your back if you need me. When the next bad guy comes around, we'll take him together.