They Don't Look Mean!

When you live with Saints, you expect to hit the ground periodically. Like cleaning the slobber off the ceiling, it is just a fact of life you deal with. They are amazingly gentle animals; they mean you no harm. But the unintentional cross body tackle is as effective as the intentional one.

Outdoors, when they knock you down in the snow, you all laugh and carry on. But, you may be surprised to learn that when you butt is bouncing off the hardwood floors, some of the humor is lost. Well, at least on my end.

It’s not bad enough that Ralph has just knocked me down with a brutal leg sweep, but now Trixie has to come over and give me a good head butt to the chin followed by a sweet, slobbery kiss. When the room stops spinning, I wipe my face on my sleeve and tentatively get to my feet. I am still a bit woozy. I see it coming, but am unable to do anything to stop it: the swift, sharp tail to the groin. I drop back to the floor and curl in the fetal position. I’ve always heard that if you lay perfectly still and play dead, they eventually lose interest and wander off into the bedroom to sleep.

And they do.

But just to add insult to injury, Ralph expects a treat first.