Old Brew Awaits

I am headed back to the Bluegrass. Perhaps, with our old, unaltered twenty-nine pound dog "Brew" (or "Bru") waiting for me, I can call it the "Bru-grass". Brew is about twenty-five pounds of attitude and four pounds of appetite. He is a pit bull in a Keeshond body. He needs to calm down though with a little one on the way. After six weeks of training with Norman Bratcher, a really good trainer, and two weeks more coming, we hope Brew really is a good dog. If he is not, he will be banished South and have the pleasure of jousting with Sage, who is twice his size, and Gizzy, who is also younger, larger, and stronger until he develops the sense not to fight his brothers. I had never owned a mean dog until Brew entered our lives. Sam, our late great retriever, was 110 pounds of whole male but mostly gentle. Casey was ninety-three pounds of unaltered gentleness. He would not even harm a mole that dug out of the ground right under his nose. Bru even went after me the last time I came back from Nashville. Let us hope when I see him later today he remembers who is the master.