Before we decided to adopt our youngest dog, Belle (who we’d learned of on the American Brittany Rescue Web site), we considered changing her name. Neither of us were crazy about “Belle.”
Until I met her. Once I’d seen her in person, I knew the name just fit.
She’s a pretty little Belle, that’s for sure. What we weren’t convinced of until now was whether or not she is Southern. Belle sounds like a Southern name, but she was living in New Jersey when we met her.
Now that we know she’s a NASCAR fan, we know she has to be Southern.
How do we know she’s a NASCAR fan? She’s building her own, scale-model track in our backyard.
Let me back up a bit and explain. Here’s the view of the yard you get when you look out the sliding glass doors off the kitchen. Whenever Belle goes outside, she runs to the left of the birdbath, to the right of the rabbit as she vaults over the wall, through the woods and around the left side of the shed, around the right side of the shed, and along the fence. She takes the same path, at top speed, just about every time.
She asked if she could borrow some of Eric’s old Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars to scatter around the track. For added “flavor.” But they’re pretty small. I was afraid she, or Meg (most likely) would swallow one.
So she just has to keep using her imagination. She’s got the race car sounds perfected (you should hear her cute little growl!). And she’s got the speed. What she doesn’t seem to realize is that she’s running backwards. Apparently she never noticed that NASCAR races are run in a counterclockwise direction.
We’re not going to tell her. Why spoil her fun?