What in the world was I thinking? A puppy? Wally, our new puppy,

is cute and all. And he does have that special puppy smell, kind of like a

baby’s smell only mixed with dog chow. I think after fourteen years

that I forgot what a pain in the backside er … I mean “fun” puppies can be. I

even got a new nickname out of the deal.

It was bad enough being referred to as a “butt mommy” as in

“But, Mommy I don’t want to clean my room.” Now I am the “poo

mommy.” I wonder if I can put that on my resume. I am the one who gets to

follow Wally around armed like the Terminator with paper towels and

cleaners, so I guess the name fits. Thanks to Wally, I have spent more time on

my knees in the last few weeks than I have in all my days in church. My

hardwood floors are getting a thorough cleaning, one piddle at a time.

No floor is safe, not even the carpet downstairs. It is now covered

in newspaper and I have taken to wearing a miner’s hat after sundown.

You always look where you walk, what with the little “presents” being left.

My ever-lovin’ husband was the only person who appreciated that Wally

the puppy made him a birthday present. I got out the paper towels and

carpet cleaner.

Not even the RV is safe. To the rest of the world, Memorial Day is a

holiday to remember our loved ones who are no longer with us. Not us,

Memorial Day means camping! Back in the rig with our two little angels, our

niece, the cat who now thinks the RV is HIS territory and don’t forget, little

Wally. The only saving grace is the fact that the carpet is already the color of

puppy poo. Although we only went to the Skagit Valley, I swear that it was

the longest ride of my life. Six thousand seven hundred miles across country

is nothing compared to driving that pack of animals 100 miles.

During the trip, our cat George was in an uproar over our new addition

to the family. I swear he shed twenty pounds of fur in only one hour. As

he weighs in at ten pounds, I was amazed he didn’t just disappear. But he is

too spiteful for that. No, he just sat in our bed shedding and hissing at Wally.

It was kind of like sleeping on a bearskin rug. The only problem was I

inhaled half a cat while sleeping. Nothing like a quiet, relaxing

weekend camping with family and friends!

Oh don’t get me wrong. Wally made a friend on our camping trip,

a German shepherd named Meesha. Meesha is nine months old,

technically still a puppy, more a state of mind

than a physical fact. So when a hundred-twenty-pound “puppy” is chasing

my six-pound puppy it was closer to Armageddon than play time. Chairs

flying, kids crying, tables being knocked over, oh, it was a ball of laughs. I

am surprised we didn’t get thrown out of the campsite. Our only saving

grace is that, at ten weeks, Wally is adorable.

Longtime friends who I haven’t seen in a year run right by me to

coo over Wally. They act like they cannot even remember my name. They

fuss and pet the little darling. Then my friends scold me for not making

him more comfortable. They tell me he is too cold or too hot, too this, too that.

I try to remind them that he is a dog and not a person, but they don’t listen

to me. At least until he makes a present. Then everyone remembers my

name. “Poo Mommy,” Wally made a poo.

Kate Russell is cleaning up after Wally between Carnation

and Duvall. You can reach her at Katemo1@msn.com.