This little devil is my husband’s dog Oakley. It has been raining here at Ft. Riley for two days now and there is a lake forming in our back yard. I decided that I can’t keep the dogs in all day without one of them leaving puddles of pee or mountains of poop in the house. So at lunch I let the pups go outside— that is when hell broke loose. Oakley decided he wanted to play with Jake, my beautiful chocolate lab, who is not one for standing in the rain. In retaliation, Jake ran after him and they proceeded to splash around in puddles of water and mud, jumping on each other while darting back and forth through the yard. Needless to say, I had to get them inside before further damage was done. Inside they went, tracking little… excuse me… ENORMOUS muddy paw prints through the kitchen. I had to dry them off quickly before they got on the furniture, covering it in mud and dog-scented rain water. I called them upstairs where a towel awaited them, forgetting my bedroom door was open. They raced me up the stairs and, one after the other, they jumped on our bed. Ay yai yai. The instigator in this shenanigan? My darling son of a devil, Jake. This is just a single instance, from a single day, out of our 24/7 job of trying to keep our babies out of trouble. Somehow they always manage to elude us at the crucial moment of stopping the madness in its tracks.