West Texas Mama

I received a phone call at 4:40 p.m.  It was an angry El Hubbo screaming into the phone that the dogs had gotten out, the back gate was wide open, and he and the kids were driving around our neighborhood (which consists of two one-block streets in the middle of a cotton field - I am not exaggerating) looking for the dogs. Alright, I sigh, I am on my way. You see, this is not the first time that my darling little Rocky (who puts the "spring" in English Springer Spaniel) has chosen stormy weather to stage a prison break.  (Reference one of the earliest WTM blogs titled, "Dog Gone Evening" from 3/15/10)  And, I know he is the mastermind because Charlie is a big galoot that is looking for love in all the wrong places all the time and will willingly follow Rocky everywhere as long as it does not involve jumping. At least at that very moment, it was bright and sunny, although the storms of the previous evening/night/morning had left the aforementioned cotton fields