Happy Groundhog Day!

And before you blow me off and say, "Sarah, you already posted this over at the Zoo!" stick with me. This isn't the same groundhog.

I was thinking about Groundhog Day last night and suddenly had a completely different groundhog memory that made me laugh out loud. That of course means that I have to share it with you because that's what my blog is about.

We had a dog growing up named Rowdy. He was dachsund, shepherd, irish setter, mutt mix. Yeah, he was a looker! He was black, about the size of a lab and was probably the laziest dog you ever met. He laid down to eat. I kid you not!

But he hated groundhogs. I mean loathed, despised, and abhorred them. He would be laying in the yard under the clothes line and suddenly take off like he had a firecracker in his rear if he saw one. He was nice enough to bury them if he ever got them. And therein is your story.

I was a camp counselor every summer all through high school and into college. At the end of the camp season every year all the counselors would come to our house and have a barbecue and play croquet and watch Indiana Jones and Tombstone and pretty much just pass out on our livingroom floor and go home in the morning. It was my parents' gift to us for a summer well done. One summer I was bidding good night to one of the guys who couldn't stay and had walked him out to his truck. Out of no where here came Rowdy dog.

(This is NOT our Rowdy Dog - but he WAS this cool!)

Apparently he had found one of his "trophies" which was about six weeks ripe, dug it up and rolled in it. (You just threw up a little didn't you?) Then he proceeded to try to climb into my friend Matt's truck. Over top of him.

This was met with, "GET OUT OF HERE DOG!! YOU SMELL ZACTLY!!"

When I was finally able to pick myself up off the ground where I had collapsed in full on tears pouring laughter, I asked, "Matt? What is 'zactly?'"

"RC, that dog smells zactly like my butt!"

Zactly has been a part of our vocabulary ever since. May you have a Zactly Groundhog Day!