Welcome to "Luther's Deer Leg." I'll have a lot to say about our dog, Luther, here, so it seems appropriate to name this blog for him and for the deer leg that he has buried, dug up, reburied and carried about for the past three months. Sometimes the leg is left lying in the front yard. Sometimes it's left in the driveway. Luther likes to carry it about; he trots with it locked in his tiny jaws of death. He carries it with his head held high. He's proud of his trophy -- and he doesn't want to drag it, since it's heavy to begin with. Luther likes to gnaw on it, of course, and after he has gnawed and slobbered and gotten it good and nasty, he like to rub his face all over it. Then he rolls on it. He rolls and rolls. He stinks. He loves it.
So, Luther and I welcome you to "Luther's Deer Leg." What will you find here? You'll find self-indulgent musings from Luther's dad, of course. You'll also find encomiums to Luther, cairn terrier extraordinaire, laird of LutherLand, lead dog of West Botetourt.
Stay tuned.
John, Luther's dad
