Mr. Big Mouth

Singing for their supper.

When Vega's puppies were born nearly nine months ago, one thing that surprised me most was how vocal they were. Who knew that those hours-old, tiny black bundles could make that much noise. They were my personal chorus of puppies.

They didn't get any quieter as they grew. In fact, a sleeping mound of pups could erupt into an ear-splitting storm the instant anyone opened the door to their doggie nursery. Judging from the barking, whining and squealing that Panzer does today, I'd say he was the one leading the charge.

Unlike Reacher, he is guard dog extraordinaire. Maybe a bit too extraordinaire. He barks at anything that moves. Dog walkers, joggers, bike riders. Panzer's not particular. It's like he's shouting, "Get outta here! I mean it! Right now!"

At bedtime, if he ends up in his crate rather than in a bedroom with the white noise of the ceiling fan to muffle the night sounds, he raises a ruckus whenever the house creaks, the wind blows or the freezer's ice maker turns out its cubes.

And every time he gets a chance to chase Reacher around the yard, he squeals like a stuck

pig. From excitement, I presume.

There's silent Reacher on one hand and big mouth Panzer on the other. Maybe that's why the two of them get along so well. Opposites attract.

Panzer: "I hear something." Reacher: "Whatever."