Michael D. Davis.

Dixie, in my opinion, is one of the best dogs in the world; however, with that being said, she, like all of us, has her foibles. Her separation anxiety is at the top of this list, a condition that affects us all to one degree or another. It is for this reason that if you saw me or my sister at the Stoplight Festival last week, you probably saw Dixie as well.

No, I did not have a child. No, my sister did not have a child. When you saw us walking around pushing a pink stroller, It was Dixie we were pushing about. She is, after all, an older lady, and she could’ve walked the festival, but why walk when you can rest and be pushed?

We could’ve also left her at home. She would not have torn anything apart or chewed up anything. Dixie would simply have a major panic attack. She’d split her time between barking and whining at the front door and sitting on the couch, staring at the front door. When left alone, Dixie needs a zoloft or a paperbag to breathe into. If only one person is home with her, and said person is in the bathroom for longer than Dixie thinks is necessary, she will give them a piece of her mind.

So, Dixie comes along, hence the stroller. And if we are all being honest here, do I seem like a guy that wouldn’t push his dog around in a pink stroller? This worked out on Friday as she attended the Stoplight Festival like the queen of Nile with peasants coming up to her carriage offering adoration.

If it wasn’t already apparent, Dixie truly runs the household these days, but just as I think I understand the extent of things I am witness to, something new. Today, I ate lunch in the living room at a small table. As I ate my lunch, and after she realized I wasn’t going to share, Dixie decided to throw herself around the couch in a fit of the “zoomies.” She growled and wrestled the pillows and flung herself all about. Ma, who was sitting in her chair at the time, laughed at the sight, then did something unexpected. Ma barked. Then Dixie barked. I turned around, and I watched as for several minutes Ma would bark, then Dixie would bark, then they’d laugh. Then Ma would bark, then Dixie would bark, and it would all start over again. This went on for some time. When Dixie finally gave up and walked away, Ma just looked at me and said, “What? She started it.” I didn’t know what to think. It was two old ladies barking at each other.

So, if you see me or any of my family members out and about pushing a pink stroller, no, there is no child; there’s just Dixie, queen of the house, riding in her carriage.