You know it's a quiet day when the dog sitter sleeps more than the dogs! "Altitude," Emmy murmured this morning as she huffed and puffed up the steps from her room. She mixed breakfast perfectly—chow, chicken broth, beef, carrots, peas. I ate every bite. I'm a good dog! And I pooped twice today. I'm a good girl!
It rained during our afternoon walk. Emmy always stops and looks at Pike's Peak. "Instead of its usual snowy cap, gray-blue clouds swirled about its granite flanks," she murmured. It took her quite awhile to come up with that sentence. Emmy is a writer. A writer is someone who uses a lot of big words arranged funny. That's my definition, not hers.
Emmy moved my sheepskin next to Bob, Dad's napping couch. I slept well last night. Mom and Dad, I miss you more than words can say. If I were there I would lick you and lick you!
TULLY says . . .
I miss you so much that, out of desperation, I have begun to lie by the dog sitter and allow her to stroke me. She doesn’t do it correctly, which is disappointing. Mom and Dad, the sitter says you're on a cruise in the ocean. She said it's sort of like being in a very big bathtub. You know how I feel about baths.
It appears that the sitter's fondness for the love seat next to MY couch will not abate. So today I begrudgingly lay in my "nest" while—a few feet away—she ate, channel surfed, drank Diet Coke, read travel magazines, and typed on her computer. All at the same time. On top of everything, there's a cold front coming and she's considering increasing the temperature in the house to 68°. What is the world coming to when your parents prefer a bathtub over you and your home becomes a sauna?
As far as my digestion goes, I was "successful" this morning. It was a "normal success," if you know what I mean. And if you don't, I'm not going to be more clear in this venue. It is embarrassing enough that Diva is so frank. I miss you dearly.
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