“I’m so proud of the puppies. Not one has pooped during the night on the blanket in the X-pen. I open the dining room door to the dog yard, then to the X-pen, and they race to get out. No sooner are they in the yard then they take turns pooping. I get the scooper and follow them around.

“Let’s get him,” Miss Purple says and chases after me. Blue and Orange follow her. Purple grabs the right leg of my sweats and Blue and Orange the left. With their teeth securely locked into the fabric of my sweats, they dig their two inch wide paws into the pea stones and pull. I can’t walk. These little puppies, at eight weeks old, have grown into monsters. They weigh more than eighteen pounds and stand a foot tall at their shoulders. Using all my strength I move one foot forward, then pull the other foot a step ahead. I’m making my way to a pile of poop when I realize my sweats are being pulled right off my behind. The puppies refuse to let go. Miss Purple starts shaking my leg like Clara used to do to break a skunk’s neck. She’s not strong enough to break my leg, but she does manage to pull my sweats down to my knees leaving me half-naked. With a lunge, I break free. Turning around I see the puppies, rolling on the ground, each pointing a paw at me and laughing uproariously, or so it seems.”