Page 12 of Nanny for the Athletes

Me: He’s all wiggly and happy now! Check out this video.

Me: [video attachment]

Me: He and Hank have been playing all day!

Braden: Atta boy, Pickles! Making friends wherever he goes. A serial killer could break into my house and Pickles would roll over and show them his belly.

Braden: Seriously, you’re the best. Way better than the other boarder. Keep the photos coming! I really miss that goofball when I’m away.

Me: With pleasure :-)

Saturday was just as easy as Friday; when I wasn’t giving the dogs special attention, they played with each other in the field. On Sunday, I carried my laptop out to the kennel and put it on a TV tray next to my rocking chair so I could stream the noon football game between the River City Colts and Pittsburgh Steelers.

I knew almost nothing about football. I got my degree from a small college that didn’t even have a football team, so I never got to experience college football, either. The extent of my knowledge was that the team was trying to move the football down the field until they reached the end zone, where they would then be awarded between three and eight points, depending on some factors I didn’t understand.

It was surreal watching the game televised on CBS featuring two men I had met in person. Especially Christian: when the Colts had the ball, the camera zoomed in on his face between every single play.

Heidi and Pickles must have been familiar with the sound of football, because they came running over and laid down near me as soon as I turned the game on. Hank didn’t really know what was going on, but he came over and hung out in solidarity with the pack.

Thankfully, the TV broadcasters did a good job of educating ignorant viewers like me. Apparently the Steelers had a really good defense, which meant Christian and the rest of the offense had their work cut out for them. And sure enough, they seemed to struggle in the first two quarters. Christian got tackled by the opposing team many times; I held my breath after one particularly gruesome hit, but he still got back up. They had to punt the ball a few times, which the broadcasters assured me was bad.

Late in the second quarter, it almost seemed like they were going to score a touchdown. But when Christian threw the ball to Braden, he let it slip through his fingers instead of catching it. Braden took off his helmet on the sideline and patted his own chest, and I didn’t need to be a lip reader to see that he was saying: “My bad. That’s my bad.”

They were losing 17 - 3 at halftime. I wasn’t sure if that was really bad or justkind ofbad, so I decided to take some photos of the dogs and send them to both players with the caption: “The gang is all rooting for you, even Hank! Beat those Steelers!”

I was only half paying attention in the second half because I was brushing the dogs and then bathing them inside the kennel. But the broadcasters sounded excited, and the score got closer and closer every time I checked.

17 - 6.

20 - 6.

20 - 13.

23 - 13.

23 - 20.

23 - 23.

Braden was right: Pickleslovedgetting a bath, and wiggled so much that it was tough to rub the shampoo into his coat. When I was done and drying him off with a towel, I heard the broadcasters going nuts outside.

“Touchdown! Touchdown Colts! They only needed a field goal, but that pinpoint pass from Christian Baker to Braden Clark gives the Colts a commanding lead with just twenty seconds remaining on the clock!”

The other broadcaster chimed in, “I’ve got to say, Baker looked like a completely different quarterback in the second half. That’s a sign of good coaching, to make adjustments like that at halftime.”

“I’m pretty sure I caused that by sending them motivational dog photos,” I joked to Pickles. “With your help, of course.”

Pickles panted happily at me.

Later that evening, as I was preparing to give the dogs their dinner, Christian called me. “I know we’re supposed to pick the dogs up tomorrow, but would it be possible to get them tonight?” he asked.

“Of course,” I replied. “Why, is something wrong? Are you worried about them staying here?”

“Nothing like that,” Christian replied. “We just miss our dogs, and our flight lands earlier than we expected.”

In the background, I heard Braden say: “Ask her about Pickles! Just ask her!”

Christian sighed and said, “Braden wants me to ask if Pickles rolled around in any poop today.”

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