In My Brain Today: Hanging with the Hound

By Leslie Lindsay

I really wish I had more to report today.  Blame it on the heat, because my brain is just not funtioning like I think it should.  Not that it’s particularly brillant brain in the first place, but the heat is really dulling it down. 

The dishes are sitting in the sink a little longer than I’d like to admit.  The laundry has gone unfolded as it just sits in a heap inside the dryer.  (I don’t even want to turn the thing on to fluff up the garmets inside…more heat!).  And I really haven’t wanted to cook, either.  In fact, one night this past week I am sad to say, we had cereal for supper–although the kids thought that was great fun.  Today, it’s too hot to even go to the pool.  Instead, we are going to the library to finally sign up for the summer reading program, and then get hair cuts.  Because, who needs long hair when it’s 5 million degrees out?!

(image retrieved from on 7.05.12)Basset Hound  - basset-hounds Icon

All I want to do is read.  And nap.  And sit in a cool office to write.  And look lovingly down at my darling writing companion, Sally Mae who happens to be the best hound in town. 

For more information on the heat, how to protect yourself and stay cool, see these websites: 


In My Brain Today: Basset Snacking Behavior

By Leslie Lindsay

Dog snacks do not equal affection.  (Just as love does not equal sex, nor sex equal love).  Lately this is the discussion I have been having with one of my daughters.

Only  this one is short and long and wags a tail.  She is my dog-ter.  And she loves food.  A lot.  I can see the appeal: it’s tasty and it makes you feel good.  But I am getting tired of giving her treats all day long.  I am equally tired of hearing her whine and do her stubby leg dance near the pantry where we keep the dog snacks–and the people snacks.  She likes ’em both, so what’s the point in trying to differentiate the two?

Just yesterday, I leaned down to Miss Sally’s level and looked into her droppy brown eyes, “Sally,” I began, “we love you, but love does not equal food.  You cannot get a snicky-snack everytime you want one.  I will pet you instead.”  To that, Sally just rolled her eyes (easy for a basset), groaned, and hobbled over to the pantry where she proceeded to do her little dance and shuffle her right front paw like a bull before a fight.

I approached her again, “Sal, how about a brushing?”  I retrieved her pink rubber coat shiner thing and sat down, patting the floor next to me, “Come her, girl.  How about some brushy-brush?”  She actually shook her head, floppy jowls and all!

The next time she whined for food, I gave her a stern look and said, “No.  No food for you!”  She grumbled, but gave up fairly quickly.

Today, she wanted a Greenie.  Well, not that I know for sure exactly what she wanted–I just knew it was nearing “Greenie Time.”  But I was not ready to stop packing lunches to walk clear across the kitchen to retrieve a barfy-smelling green bone shaped like a toothbrush, which ironically is supposed to make her breath smell better.  I narrowed my eyes, but in my sweetest motherese told her, “We tell you when it’s eatin’ time, not you.”  She gave up and walked away.

And now, the hound is at my feet as I type this.  I think she got that message that food does not equal affection.

And that is what is in my brain today, Thursday February 9th 2012. 

In My Brain Today: Bassets on the Brain

By Leslie Lindsay

I really don’t want to wear out this topic, but I think I am on the verge of doing just that.  I love basset hounds.  I love them as much as I love salted carmel mochas from Starbucks, rainy days, and writing.  I love them as much as I love reading and eating carb-laden treats like pumkin bread.  And I love them as much as I love Colbie Caliet and romatic comedies.  I. Love. Basset.  Hounds! 


It’s been a long time coming.  I fell in love with the low-slung, droopy-eared breed when I was about 8 or 10…my grandmother (who recently passed away) sort of introduced me to them by way of her Beagle, “Lil’ Son” (a.k.a Sparky).  Sure, I liked Sparky, but what I liked even more was the basset hound I spied on the calendar at the dollar store at the mall when I was with grandma, “Oh, that looks like Sparky, only with longer ears!”  She set me straight–or long and floppy–and told me it was a basset hound.

Since then, it’s been love. 

For awhile I was thinking I’d get a puppy.  That was the plan, anyway.  We’d get a basset pup come spring of 2012, complete with ears long enough to trip over.  But the more I think about it and the more I hear others warn me what a handful a young puppy can be, well…I’ve been considering a rescue dog instead.  So, I was on earlier today and lo  (which is exactly what they are) and behold, I undercovered about 50 million bassets that need homes.  Oh, my!!  Could I adopt them all?!

So, here’s what I want:

A female basset about 3-4 years old, tri-color (but brown ears, very picky about those ears).  A full basset, too–no mixes.   A little girl who is good with human girls…easy-going, good on a leash, follows me around and warms my feet as I write.  She should be even-tempered because I would like her to be a therapy dog.  Stubby legs and a happy disposition is a must.

Here’s my favorite video from the AKC.  I guarentee it will make you giggle!

And that is what is in my brain today, Thursday September 29th 2011. 

In My Brain Today: Basset Bliss

Yesterday we were able to go to the elementary school where my Kate will be in full-day Kindergarten.  We walked around the building, checked out the library, art, music, and P.E. rooms.  Great school.  We got to take a peek at class lists and look into the “in progress” classrooms.

Just when I thought we were ready to head out for the evening, something caught my eye: “Basset Hound Puppies for Sale!”  It was as if the home-generated flier was a marquee with flashing lights.  Suddenly, I didn’t care if my first born was headed off to full-day Kindergarten or who her teacher was…this was the “sign” I had been hoping and praying for since I was like…humm….8 years old!

I slipped the flier under my husband’s nose, “Oh my…get a look at this,” I whispered in excitement, not wanting the girls to know what I was up to.  He flinched and quickly turned the flier over so only the back was showing.  He does not like the low-slung jowly hounds like I do. 

The woman manning the table where the flier was spoke up, “I have two of them.  They are fantastic pets.  We couldn’t live without them.”  Jim politely rolled his eyes and let me do the talking gushing.  Contrary to popular belief, she assured me that the don’t stink any worse than any other ungroomed dog, and the drooling really isn’t a problem (hers don’t do it).  I thanked her for her thoughts and walked out of the school gleeful.  “I don’t want to hear about it, hon.”  He told me.

Well, I called the number on the flier.  A man answered and I told him about my love for the breed.  He told me to come on over.  After yoga (couldn’t get into the “zen moment” because I had pups on the brain), I made my way to “433 Basset Bliss.”  (no, not their real address).  I knew I was at the right place when I saw mama dog and eight–yes eight–adorble floppy-eared pups running and frolicking in the grass on a late summer’s eve.  I promptly sat down on the grass and was suddenly covered with eager little pups.  Could this be heaven?!  (No, that was the other day when I was sniffing vinyl back-to-school supplies!)  Okay, add that to the dogs, plus a yummy coffee drink, a good book, a fire, my honey, and  my girls and yes, that would be heaven.  And Italy.  Gotta have Italy, too.

I digress.  Back to the dogs.  Loved them.  Loved every minute of being there.   The mosquito bites I obtained are a gentle reminder of the fun I had.

When I got home, Jim said, “Where’ve you been?  You smell like a dog.”  Always the way a wife wants to be greeted after absence from her beloved, don’t you think?  I told him every last detail.  He started asking questions–like real questions–“When are they available?  How much do they cost?  Wonder what we’d name one?  And you know, I don’t want poop in the yard!”  Yeah, yeah, me neither.  When I told him that a dog like this would help the garden by keeping bunnies away, he totally perked up.  Hummm…

Even if it is a bust, I still think it was a good adventure–afterall the “Human Mom” of these dogs is Kate’s school secretary See…I was networking! 

Begging for More

I have been wanting to add a member to the family for some time.  My huband says, “no.”  My husband says they are “ugly and smelly.”  I disagree.  I say they are adorable and only smell if you don’t take care of them.  I will take care of them.  This debate of sorts  has been going on since my youngest moved from her crib to her big girl bed.

And it’s not just me who’s begging for a new addition.  The girls are, too.  It would be one big, happy family.  And really, what’s a family without a dog? 

My breed of choice is probably the #1 reason why he says “no,” that and the fact that he thinks the girls need to older to help take care of the dog –and then he’ll make a macabre comment–telling me, “the dog will die while they are still young and vulnerable.  Let’s wait so the dog dies when the girls go off to college.”  Always the realist, my husband. 

I have wanted a Bassett Hound since I was a kid-less than 10 years old, to be exact.  My dad said the same thing, “smelly and ugly.” and further assured me I could get one when I was married and had a family of my own.  He said it  almost like a threat.  I heard it like this, “When you are grown up–and you still want one of those dumb, ugly dogs, then by all means, go for it.”  Of course, he’s too diplomatic to say that!  Well, here I am many years later and I am still pining for a Bassett. 

Yesterday while at Borders Books, I rushed by the pet section in an attempt to get my little one to the potty on time.  There, on the on the shelf rested a book.  Staring back at me on the cover was a sad-faced, floppy-eared Bassett, “The Complete Pet Owner’s Manual to Bassett Hounds.”  Needless to say, I  saw it as a “sign” that I needed it. 

I flipped through it and smiled at every color photograph of the low-slung, jowly hounds.  I squealed in delight and made little coochie-coo noises as though Iwas looking at a cherubic little baby.  I read sections of the book when I got a minute here and there–while dining with my kids at the breakfast table and while snuggling with my little one as she watched “Sid the Science Kid”–and that’s when I read, “This calm dog is an ideal companion for children.”  Yes!!  What’s more is the book says they are laid-back, non-agggressive, and low-maintenance.  Just what a busy mom of two needs!  Well, not really….but in terms of canine companions, maybe a Bassett isn’t such a bad choice afterall. 

As for the “sign”–well, now all I need is a sign that reads, “Bassetts Pups–free to good home.”