March Madness holds a special place for me, taking me back to the ’70s watching my then Memphis State Tigers. It holds the same allure for my cousin, and each year, we try to gather at her beach house to watch basketball and eat foods that are not particularly healthy.

Fortunately, my cousin is also a dog person, so Winnie Lew is welcome to join the festivities (with a caveat).

Winnie Lew made her first trip there four years ago.

At the time, my cousin had three yorkies varying in age. The oldest, Savannah (who has since crossed over the rainbow bridge), could neither see nor hear, and as we say in the south, “Bless her heart.”

Her life consisted of moving around the room bumping into things. She was kind of like a Roomba with hair. Winnie Lew took an immediate liking to Savannah and decided that her role would be that of shepherd and protector.

The youngest of the three, Pippa, was still a puppy at that time. I think there is probably a picture of her by the phrase “yapper dog” in the dictionary.

She was a thorn in Savannah’s and Winnie Lew’s side with her constant yapping.

Pippa was always running up with a full head of steam and a lot to talk about. Often, she would knock poor Savannah over, her not being aware of the oncoming onslaught.

Winnie Lew did not take kindly to Pippa’s treatment of the matriarch of the canine clan. Each dog had its own little toy box – sharing didn’t seem to be something they did. Which brings us to the incident.

When we first arrived, I felt Winnie Lew tense up at the largest noise coming from the smallest package.

She looked at me, and I truly could read her thoughts begging me to “please make that bow head stop yapping.” We retreated to our bedroom with our luggage, and I had a heart-to-heart with Winnie Lew, telling her that sometimes there are just things you have endure for the love of basketball and the beach.

I thought she understood.

She did her best to endure, and she lasted almost 36 hours before it got the best of her and she decided she needed to do something about it. She tolerated Pippa barking in her face and jumping at her, but she was not going to tolerate that behavior with Savannah.

Winnie Lew has never had an accident in any home and never tried to mark her territory.

That streak was about to change.

Pippa had knocked poor Savannah over for the umpteenth time, and Winnie Lew decided something had to be done and she was just the dog to do it.

Winnie Lew stared Pippa down and promptly trotted over, lifted her leg, and relieved herself in Pippa’s toybox.

The message sent, she trotted over and jumped up in my lap, and if she had had opposable thumbs, she would have given Savannah a thumbs up.

Needless to say, my cousin was appalled at my fur baby’s behavior. She grabbed the toys and the toybox and ran to the laundry room to disinfect everything. She came back with wipes, vinegar, and God knows what else and began to clean the entire area.

I think she would have worn a hazmat suit if she had had one.

No amount of exciting basketball or Rotel dip was going to fix the situation.

There was an eerie silence in the room (Pippa did indeed close her yapper). I apologized profusely while inwardly being kind of proud of Winnie Lew’s problem-solving abilities.

Next thing I knew, my cousin was on her computer and mumbling something about “rescue” dogs, and she would have a solution by the following day.

Winnie Lew was banished to my bathroom for the remainder of the day.

The following afternoon, an Amazon delivery arrived at the door. My cousin handed it to me and said proudly, “This should take care of Winnie Lew’s problem.”

In the box was a package of three doggie diapers.

One of the patterns was duckies, and Winnie Lew seemed to be the least offended by that pattern.

They did kind of match her fur.

So, on went the doggie diapers and an embarrassed Winnie Lew just sat pitifully in my lap enduring the indignity.

But to my cousin, the problem was solved, and it seemed a small price to pay. And it did keep Pippa quiet for at least a short while.

Fast forward to this year (and each year since). As I packed my dog’s vacation bag, I put the diapers in while apologizing to my baby.

When we arrived, I took Winnie Lew for a long walk, trying to make sure that she had no fluids left in her.

Since the first visit, Winnie Lew has not tried to make her mark anywhere . . . but diapers remain.

I put her duckie diapers on, and we headed into the house. It seems that Winnie Lew has put some pounds on since the original purchase and the duckies were a little snug.

I was constantly having to pull up her diapers on this visit which earned her the new nickname “pants on the ground.” POTG dutifully wore the diapers while managing to ignore Pippa the Yapper.

While there, I ordered a larger set of diapers for our next visit.

But last weekend, something remarkable did happen.

My cousin’s middle yorkie, Mia, who had always been Switzerland in the Winnie Lew-Pippa cold war, started following Winnie Lew around with what I can only describe as admiration.

Pippa had been terrorizing her too, it seems, and she recognized a fellow soul who had taken action. Mia would sit next to Winnie Lew on the couch looking at Pippa with “Now it’s a fair fight” in her eyes.

I must say, though, that Winnie Lew has accepted her fate with surprising dignity.

When the new diapers arrived, I opted for a floral pattern this time – it seemed slightly less humiliating than the duckies.

I looked for a basketball pattern with no luck, so daisies it is.

The package promised “maximum comfort and mobility for the discerning canine,” which made me chuckle.

As if Winnie Lew cared about fashion statements while enduring her beach house shame. “Look, girl. At least they’re your size this time,” I said, trying to sound upbeat.

Winnie Lew responded by turning her back to me and trotting to her bed, her dignity clearly wounded even at the mere sight of the contraptions.

I swear that dog understands English better than some people I know.

Now back at home, with the breeze blowing through her backside fluff while she does her business, my co-pilot thinks finally everything is “just duckie” again.