Goosey, goosey gander...

Today I saddled up the dogs (leashes, collars, and harnesses), filled my pockets with yummy, stinky treats, and shuffled them into the car for a ride to the New Home. There is nothing more fun than driving a car with two whiney dogs both sitting in the front passenger seat. The joy is increased by the worry that Molly will have a violent seizure in the car.

After 5-6 miles of drooling, whining, screeching, and licking the windows, the dogs told me to cut it out.

We pulled in our *new* driveway and parked the car. I decided to not let them inside, only partly because it's a no-no to go inside an unfinished home without a staff member. Mostly, I didn't want them full of drywall dust and I wanted to leave something for next time. So we headed for the pond. I call it Goose Pond, of course.

Molly immediately saw the benefits of this walk. She dropped her head and started scooping up goose turds. I would pull her head up with the leash, but it was a losing battle. Beagles are bottom feeders, and the term is very apt at a time like that.

Did you know that some turds are better than others? She was picking through them like a desperate housewive at a white sale. Baby just looked at her as if to say, YUCK. Me too. We walked to the water, scared a few geese and ducks around for a while, and then walked behind the condos. We took a nice, cold stroll around the block to let the mud dry off our feet, then back to the driveway. The beagles were allowed to sniff around indiscriminately for a few minutes. No more interesting or unusual treats were found.

The ride home was so quiet that I was surprised. No one whined, cried, drooled, or screeched. No one, not even me, tried to exit the car while it was moving.

Maybe a goose poop treat is all Molly needs to tolerate car rides. Who knew?