Big, Fat Trouble

As Mason and I were getting ready to leave the other day, we noticed that Samson had gotten out of the yard. This was a frequent problem previously, as we didn't pour the planned concrete up the side of the house when we put in the fence but it's been at least a year since he got out. It took Samson about ten seconds to realize, without the concrete, he could wiggle out. He may be dopey, but he isn't stupid.


Well, the only one of us more stubborn than Samson is Alan, who finally managed to block the area under the fence using concrete blocks and eliminate the problem. We are preparing to pour the concrete at last and the careful block arrangement has been messed with in the last couple of weeks, giving Samson about seven inches of opportunity space to wriggle out once again. Don't ask me how he managed this without leaving a leg behind; that's another story all together. He's a contortionist to say the least.



Mason was put out by this turn of events; he was a good, faithful helper as I walked the neighborhood calling for the dog. Samson finally appeared, which is good considering neither of the dogs are usually tagged or collared when I put them in the backyard. Mason asked what was going to happen when we found Samson. I replied with what I felt was appropriate and controlled. I told Mason that Samson was "in big, fat trouble." I'm so glad it came out controlled considering how irritated I was and the fact that Mason later repeated this comment far and wide, including to random people at the store when we went for a few baby items.



While I was making dinner, Mason kept himself busy building a new fence to "keep the puppy dogs in".

I am also not sure I've mentioned much about one of Mason's delightful new games. He likes to pretend he is a "puppy dog". This comes complete with crawling on all fours, barking, asking us to pet him, licking me in the face (and then protesting when I squawk about it by telling me he was just giving me a kiss), and asking for a bone. A bone can be anything from a Pez dispenser turned sideways in his mouth to actual food. He will also lap his milk out of a cup instead of picking up the cup, which has created many awkward spills. And Mason getting into big, fat trouble of his own.