by Jennifer Pages

Created on: February 12, 2007   Last Updated: December 14, 2011

There is something to be said for my dog's insanity, as the word is loosely used here to describe the mischievous mind of my lovable canine, Bob. For in Bob's carefree and unapologetic freedom to be crazy, I often find my own sanity.

It is snowing outside and he, my six year old Australian Shepherd named Bob, has got that look in his eye that says, "Why are you sitting there? For God's sake, let's move woman...there is snow to frolic in. Let's go make some dog angels or better yet, let's desecrate the snow by coloring it a lovely yellow hue! COME ON!" As I sit at the keyboard at the time of this writing, his nose keeps popping up under my arm, disrupting my typing and distracting me to the point of having to stop and rub his gray-black ears. Once again, mission accomplished. Bob's mission, not mine.

From the moment I got him I never bothered to establish what Cesar Milan, The Dog Whisperer, would call "Alpha Dominance" or something like that term, with Bob. No, my dog played with my head like a used up chew toy. He, Bob, with his long Aussie lashes, and caramel eyes so coy and flirty, was never happy unless I was a part of his game. It didn't matter what the game was. Sometimes the games were fun, like chasing each other around the house and playing hide and seek. Bob always chose the same place to hide, but would always act so shocked when I would find him, barking, dancing around, and ramming his burly head into my thigh. Other times, the games were all about Bob's need to eat the things that weren't his, like any leftover chips not smart enough to make it to the trash can before his nose caught up with them. These games were more about me prying paper plates out of his mouth, and finding dried up banana peels under the couch. Bob is sneaky. Sometimes the games involved pure entertainment, like the fact that he can rip off a beer tab and finish off the remaining ounce or two at the bottom in a heartbeat. (No, I do not make a habit of, nor condone, giving my dog alcohol.) Like I said, he's sneaky. You set an empty beer can down, it's gone.

When friends would visit, he would exhibit behavior worthy of a show dog, no, a Golden Retriever show dog! You gotta love those retrievers, big bouncy, fluffy, eternally happy angels who have buried their wings somewhere. He would hide his "stinker" ways by bringing them little gifts like socks, or nightgowns, or my billfold ( I am not kidding here. He's so thoughtful.), or banana peels; anything he could find. Once he collected

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