I think I was trying to write about the Three Musketeers, except I only knew about Mouseketeers, and then somehow it ends in spandex.

Team Small Dog is a trio. One for all and all for one.

Ruby is an introvert. She's aloof, and moves in the shadows, trying to do the right thing as quietly as she can. She's not above being sneaky, but her conscience tears her up when she knowingly goes to the dark side. She's a good citizen of the planet, just trying to walk in the footprints she knows are true.

Gustavo is deliriously happy. His road goes on forever and the party never ends. Viva la raza! Most excellent! He may skip details, but hell yeah. It's always going to be a far out ride of awesomeness. Just because. Life really doesn't suck if you find a way to make it fun. Party on.

Otterpop is an ass. She's a control freak. She's impatient. Intolerant. She is crafty and calculating and does things very well. Unless things are not her idea. In which case, she sees red light behind her eyes and digs in her heels. It's not that she can't be nice, it's just that she selects the whens and wheres of niceness.

Each part of the team, definitely individual, but definitely part of a whole. Everybody on the team just as important as everybody else. Maybe this is just one anthropomorphic step away from dressing the dogs up in matching tutus and scarves, but each one of my dogs has a piece of own, personal personality. I see it clearly. This is probably projection and also possibly means I'm on the way to someday becoming a werewolf if I think my personality is made of dog personalities. Not just one dog personality, but three. I'm pretty sure this won't happen. But no guarantees.

Actually, there could be worse things than turning into a dog. Jeff Goldblum turned into a fly, and as I recall it didn't end well.

However, this is not the point I'm trying to make here.

We went for a nice long walk this afternoon. Everybody tromping up the hot, steep hills, until even Otterpop was lollygagging along, tongue hanging out and no stick in her mouth. Gustavo was actually walking, and Ruby was dragging along the back. We walked all the way to one of the creeks, and the dogs just stood there in the muddy water for a while, before we turned around to head back up the hill. My idea being, perhaps if Otterpop is exhausted, perhaps, just perhaps there is lovely airplane behavior in the morning?

Thing is, I've never been anywhere without ALL of my dogs, we always go together. You know how it goes when one of the band goes solo. John ends up with Yoko, David Lee Roth turns into Sammy Hagar. Phil Collins sings awful, sappy songs from behind his big center stage drum kit. Good luck with all that. It's just not right. Something's always missing.

There's a first time for everything, and in the morning, me and Otterpop are going off on our solo project. We're pretty excited. Projection. Clarification, Otterpop doesn't know what's about to hit her. I can't speak for the dog. Yet. Jeff Goldblum as a fly. As much as I think it's super cool that me and Otterpop are having this adventure with just us, I still kind of wish you could take 3 tote bags full of dogs on the plane.

Wait a minute. Did I just really think that? Likely I will retract that statement after our flight. By Monday night, me and Otterpop, one third of the team, will be in Louisville, Kentucky.

I just hope it's not our Sammy Hagar moment. Correction. For more positive thinking. Neither me, nor Otterpop, are now, or ever have, worn spandex sparkle leggings. At least not at the same time we had a giant hair perm.

USDAA Nationals, here we come.