strawberry shortpup

As much as I would love planting all sorts of annuals for their cheerful blooms on our deck, I know by the middle of summer both they and I will have lost interest in the whole concept of being outside in the dreadful, buggy heat. So most of the plants on our deck are now perennial survivors, hearty plants that persevere despite neglect, periods of natural and (wo)man made drought, and blazing heat.

Strawberries, believe it or not, are one of those mysteriously hearty plants. Sending out runners, they renew themselves each year, finding new places to grow in the very limited pot space of our deck. Generation after generation of berry plants have surivived through the years, bearing fruit for all the creatures that happen upon them in the springtime. Squirrels, birds, and, of course, dachshunds.

Kep developed the knack early on, of knowing when to snitch a strawberry at the height of ripeness, a skill he held on to even in his elder years, blind and hobbling around with nose crooked up in the air, sniffing for the strawberries he knew would be there, somewhere. And yes, he always managed to find them.

I am comforted in knowing that Kep's tradition now lives on through tiny chumley, who finally discovered on Sunday the sweet temptations of what I am sure he now calls his own garden of deck delights. First, it was all u can eat grass, and now, delicious strawberries. What more can a little kielbasa ask for, other than a kibble tree.