Hearing my kids ask, “Mom, how long have you been home?” one too many times, I decided to add something to my life that would greet me at the door with a smile and demand nothing of me except a pat on the head. Really, all I wanted was for someone or something to notice I was in the house. My teenagers take no notice of me until they need a ride and a twenty.

Along came Barney, my 83-pound golden retriever. He is a rescue dog from Memphis, TN, who shares in my love for country music (unlike my children and husband) and has a slight twang in his bark. I wasn’t expecting something the size of a small Buick when adopting him, but, nonetheless, Barney thinks I can walk on water and doesn't tell me to shut up when I sing in the car. I know this is because he is a DAWG and I am food lady. Regardless, he is great for my ego, as he follows me everywhere, eager to please (unlike my children and husband).

Each morning we start the day on a three-mile hike in the woods. This is when all the problems of the world are solved. I babble endlessly as he trots along, shaking his head hopelessly agreeing with me. If men would only behave in the same manner, just think what it would do to the divorce rate. This is usually my favorite part of the day, until last week.

Barney fell behind on the path, so I stopped and with a whistle, as usual, he came running with, what appeared to be, a large stick in his mouth. As I am thinking, "Be careful, you could poke your eye out with that," I realize that he is not a toddler and “it” is not a stick. It was…the leg of a deer, hoof and all.
 

Just last week, my sister had called me in a panic because her dog had eaten an avocado. His inability to pass the pit resulted in a large vet bill. There is a considerable size difference between a pit and a hoof, neither of which a dog should eat.  Therefore, I was left thinking, "Oh, crap, he needs to be stopped."  I, being the only person in the woods, realized it would have to be me. Which means I am going to have to touch the deer limb or call 911.
 

I try to reason with him, “Barney, drop it. You think that chocolate cake you ate last week was tough coming out, you'll never meet a bigger “bitch” than that hoof is going to be coming out the other end!”
 

“Barney, drop it now," I command, knowing full well I am going to have to wrestle him for it.
 

Totally grossed out, I hold my nose, close my eyes, and grab hold of it. Because he is a DAWG, he thinks I am playing and shakes his head, which knocks me down. I am now thrashing around in the snow screaming four letter words at my dog while dodging flying deer debris.
 

After pinning him against a tree trunk and wedging my feet up on his shoulders, I finally manage to pry it free from his mouth. We are now both sweating, out of breath, and covered in deer membrane, not a pretty sight even for sore eyes. It is officially no longer a “good hair day."

Neither one of us was happy as we continued on our walk, Barney feeling defeated, and me just wanting to puke. Then it occurred to me. This was just not some inconsiderate deer that happened to carelessly leave its leg laying about for my dog to discover. Something must have ripped it off. And that something just may be roaming around the woods with me.

Well, that certainly put spring in our step as we headed for the house. As I stood at the back door someone yelled, “Oh my God what smells so bad?”  (To think, all I needed was to be covered in deer meat to finally be noticed.) 

I instructed my husband to strip me down and toss everything; including my eyeglasses and the dog in the washing machine and once again reminded myself…I love my dog.

Oh, and just burn the gloves.