Dogs (and a Turtle) on Thursday

I came home from work today, let Emma and Tara out, and they found a new friend. A turtle!


Mmmmmm, tasty!

I have no idea how Mr. Yertle the Turtle made it inside the fence. It's a chain link fence with 18" of chicken wire on the bottom which is buried into a trench in the ground. Not pretty, but it keeps the bunnies out, and my much-loved-and-much-missed Scarlett loved, loved, loved bunnies. Specifically bunny poop, but we won't go into that. Suffice it to say that we had to resort to the very attractive chicken wire. But I digress. Every year, turtles make it into the yard, and the dogs love them. Mellie (also much-loved-and-much-missed) was the best at finding them. I think she had some kind of radar.

Anyway, every year, we say we're going to keep track of how many turtles come into the yard. What better way than to number them?

Mr. Yertle the Turtle is officially number one. It's just nail polish. That won't hurt him, right? I hope I'm not being cruel to Mr. Yertle the Turtle. He didn't seem to mind. I put him in the box so the polish would dry. Also because while I was carrying him through the house looking for nail polish, he attacked me. Well, he just reached out a back leg and kind of tickled my palm, but it scared the bejeebers out of me. I almost peed my pants. I think there was some screaming involved, but since no one else was home, I can't really say. You know what they say about a tree falling in the woods when no one is around... If I let out a blood-curdling screech when no one is around, did I really make a sound?

Emma took it upon herself to guard Mr. Yertle the Turtle while the polish was drying.

She was not at all pleased when I carried him to the other side of the fence. Notice he is still in his box. I wasn't taking any chances of another turtle attack.

Here is Mr. Yertle the Turtle, about 4 feet away from where he was found, but this time he is on the outside of the fence. See the orange and white speck in the distance? That's Emma. She is still guarding him. She refuses to come into the house.

Tara came in right away when I asked if she wanted a cookie. Not Emma. I may have to resort to the L-E-A-S-H to get her in. I feel bad about it because she absolutely hates the evil leash. I call it the "Leash of Shame" because she just kind of slinks along close to the ground when she is wearing it. Poor Emma. First I take her new friend away, and then make her walk on a leash. She has such a hard life. Happy Dogs on Thursday.