From the minute the black Lab mix set eyes on me at the animal shelter, he gave himself to me, heart and soul. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want him, that only the pleading of my three daughters persuaded me to OK his adoption. It didn’t matter that, in the beginning, I came close to detesting him.
His worst behavior (among many) was as Destructor Dog: He chewed up shoes, a tube of Ben Gay, a big section of the couch, the wooden gate put up to keep him away from the rest of the couch …
It didn’t matter that I’d chew him out, holler at him, tell he’d never win my love by being a BAD DOG. He still worshipped me.
In fact, our connection even seemed psychic, though not in a good way.
With four along this year, I figured we’d get kicked off the campground. Malley, our malamute mix, feels compelled to greet every dog that passes by. He doesn’t even need to see the animal – the tiniest chink of a collar or leash sets him off.
Our neurotic Golden Retriever Ham barks at everything. His high-pitched yammer, sometimes mistaken for the honking of a deranged goose, cuts through the human head (mine anyhow), like a chainsaw through butter. Could I have the bark of one of my dogs surgically removed, it would be Ham’s.
Taco, now 18 and a veteran of this annual two-week experience in the woods, wouldn’t be an issue. Except that wrangling four dogs on leashes instead of three would surely open the door for misbehavior on the part of at least one of them. And so it would prove.
So maybe my husband had an ulterior motive when he surprised me recently with a radio/CD player/record player and suggested we set it up on the kitchen counter.
I froze them one Christmas Eve afternoon while feeding my horse. My feet seemed fine as I carried water buckets and hay, but once inside and for weeks afterwards …
I was 13 or so, and that was more than 35 years or so, but I've never forgotten the agony. I still have a horse, and you can bet I really bundle up to tackle the chores in the barn.
With four along this year, I figured we’d get kicked off the campground. Malley, our malamute mix, feels compelled to greet every dog that passes by. He doesn’t even need to see the animal – the tiniest chink of a collar or leash sets him off. 
Keep my ears entertained, and I get productive.