Rosie discovers our bedroom, the neighbors' raspberries, Doug's chair, and my garden, and finds it all to her liking

Rosie has discovered raspberries. They grow in the neighbors' yard but hang over our white picket fence, and because she will try anything once, including twist ties, bits of paper, and dental floss, it was not surprising to see her rear up on her hind legs the other day and start chewing the raspberry branches.

But raspberries taste better than floss, even mint-flavored floss, and soon Rosie was pushing through my blooming stand of lilies to get at more and more berries. This is why we now have big fragrant bouquets all over the house--she broke the stalks with her feet and I had to drag her away from the fence before she trampled the blossoms as well.

She is right at home wherever we put her. Over on the woodchip side of the yard, she has dug two deep holes, almost exactly the same size, right next to each other; it looks as though Pamela Anderson fell face forward onto the ground.

She works at those holes diligently, deepening them, evening them out, and sometimes I walk out on the porch and see only shoulders and feet and flying dirt; her head has entirely disappeared beneath the surface of the yard.

Oh yeah, she also trampled my bee balm.

She has claimed Doug's leather recliner, possibly because it is positioned under the living room ceiling fan and so is a cool spot on these hot days.

It's been so hot here, and for so long a stretch, that we started allowing her in the bedroom with us at night. Normally, she sleeps in her kennel in the dining room, but with no central air and nighttime temperatures in the 70s, it seemed that we would be less likely to get a visit from the ASPCA if we took her upstairs at night, where we have a window unit.

The first night, Sunday, wasn't bad; she'd had a busy day and conked out right away. All four of us on the bed was crowded, and she likes to sprawl (see above), and at one point she clocked me in the eye with her paw when she was stretching, but other than that we all got along and we mostly got some sleep.

The second night, Monday, was not as successful. She had had a quieter day, with us at work, and she was restless. She barked. She clawed at the covers. She pounced on Riley, trying to raise a little hell. Riley barked. We shouted. Nobody slept. Eventually, she settled down, but around midnight she woke up, jumped off the bed, ran to the door, and barked. It was her new, fervent, "I must pee now!" bark and we could not ignore it.

What can I destroy next? 

Doug, God bless him, dragged himself out of bed and let her outside. When he crawled back in bed, he said, sleepily, "Rosie killed a mouse on the back porch. I threw it out in the yard."

Nobody got much sleep that night.

In the morning, I kept an eye on her. Outside, she did her business, rolled on her back, chewed on Riley's ear. I brought them in and fed them, and then Rosie jumped up onto the couch to play with her toy.

To .... play ... with ....  her .... toy..... Wait a minute! She's never this quiet in the morning. She looked up innocently from the dead mouse, which fortunately she was merely worrying at this point, and not chewing.

OH lord.

On Tuesday, Doug went out into the garage and lugged the ancient old window AC unit into the house and installed it in the kitchen window. We used it last summer for Boscoe, and even though it's heavy and inefficient and we had figured we'd never use it again, I think it's going to save our lives this summer.

Last night Rosie slept in her kennel in the dining room, a little fan blowing the cooled kitchen air in her direction. And the rest of us slept upstairs. And actually slept.

Hmmmm.... I gotta figure out another way to get back up here.