It was as nice a day as you might ask for a picnic. They had Maine clams on sale this week, 50 for $6, Florida roasting ears for $3 a dozen, and they had Turkey Hill for 4 for $10, so we were even set for dessert.

"Does this month have an 'R' in it?", Blondie asked me, and I said, "No, but I bought the clams on Saturday, so they were probably harvested on Thursday or Friday, and all three of those days have Rs in them." Blondie wasn't sure my answer had much validity, but the clams tasted OK, and 50 out of 50 opened when I steamed them, so I don't think it was much of a problem.

Marie loves the back yard. She always barks harshly at the dog who lives across the alley, until that dog stands with her feet on the hurricane fence and barks back. Last fall, she barked in a more friendly manner, and it was the other dog who barked harshly, but Marie got up to the fence, and suddenly yelped and ran back towards our house.

Her ear had a little notch bitten out of it, hardly anything to see unless you were looking for it, but I imagine it was rather painful. Since then, she only goes out on a cable so she can run all over yard except within a couple of feet of that fence.

A blogger I follow had a recent problem concerning her dogs, and I wanted to get Marie's thoughts on the situation.

Jen went over to her sister's place. Her sister has a zillion-inch television, and a VCR, but can't figure out how to press the "record" button, so part of the reason for going there was to carry along the latest American Idol, recorded on Jen's Mac.

"That was the first mistake," Blondie said, and I agree; I don't like American Idol, either. If I want to hear someone being rude to others, all I would have to do is to turn down the television, and listen to the neighbors fight.

Anyhow, where Jen goes, her two dogs go. Marie suggested that was a good idea. She insists on going with me, every time I leave the house, and would like it if Blondie took her along when she goes to work, as well.

When Jen gets to her sister's house, the dogs go into the back yard. They're not allowed in the house. Marie wasn't sure a about that as a policy. Back yards are wonderful, she said, but why should dogs be banned from a house? Why bother even having a house, if you're not going to have dogs?

Marie stood up and went to the far end of the yard and barked. It wasn't the harsh barking she gives that other dog, but a friendly, "Hi there, sailor!" bark, at someone who was walking into the park. Humans exist, in Marie's mind, primarily to talk to her, to pet her, to scratch her forehead, and to groom her. Sometimes, there's a doggie treat involved, but that's a bonus. It's the petting that's critical.

When she got back, I continued with the story. My friend was halfway through American Idol playback when her niece came running in, crying about her pet bunny. The brother-in-law led the race to the back yard, where there were two dogs, grinning like fools, and tufts of rabbit fur all over the yard.

They got to chase a bunny, and they caught it? Boy, that sounds like fun! Marie seemed to think I should get her some more bunnies. Now, I said, the dogs are no longer welcome at all, and it's put quite a chill on my friend's relationship with her sister's family.

Why don't they just get some more bunnies? That way, the girl could have one of them for a pet, and there'd be more for the dogs to chase. Marie always has a good solution for problems. My friend's sister said some unkind things about dogs in general, and about these two in particular, something about "They're hunting dogs, for heaven's sake," or something like that.

All dogs are hunting dogs, Marie said, even herding dogs like me. I asked her if the little handful next door was a hunting dog. I'm not sure that thing qualifies as a dog, Marie replied. I've seen cats with more sense than that thing. That was about as nasty as Marie ever gets. She things cats are untrustworthy - and given her experience with trying to be friendly with cats, I can't argue the point.

Blondie suggested that the girl needs to learn to take care of a pet. You don't put a bunny outdoors, without supervision, and without a cage to protect it, unless you have a very good fence, running at least 18 inches below ground, and you have lots of places like drain tiles, where a bunny can hide and predators can't follow.

Aw, dad, Marie insisted, bunnies are made for chasing and catching. It's a game. They deliberately tease me. And squirrels are even worse. But squirrels are more successful at it. The squirrels climb a tree, and they're safe, and they continue to taunt the dog. Rabbits, they shake their tail to get the dog interested, but once the dog starts chasing, they end up leaving the yard. And in the case of last year's baby bunnies, they stay out of the yard.

"So did she say what she's going to do," Blondie asked. "I dunno," I responded. "I guess her sister with the big TV either has to learn how to press the record button, or will have to go over to Jen's to watch the little TV."

"We can't pick our families," Blondie said, "and there are sure a lot of people who can't get along with their siblings." It's been over five years since we've seen Blondie's sister, or talked with her. I feel sorry for her, but her sister is one of those people who lives as God would dictate, if only God were aware of all the facts. If I had the choice of being around someone who constantly beat me up, emotionally, I think I'd choose not to answer phone calls from her, too. But that doesn't mean that it isn't a shame.

On this Memorial Day weekend, let us remember not only the Indianapolis 500 race, but also those who have died for us, whether soldier, civilian, or rabbit.

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American Idol - barking - bunny - inlaws - NakedJen - picnic - predator - relationships - VCR