Hello! It’s me.
Well, I was floored by the news that we’re moving.
To the house we spent the spring in.
See, I got depressed. No Wendy. We came up north and I didn’t see here anywhere. I looked and looked … nothin’.
Dad and I had a chat. I asked, “How much more food would I have if we sold our house up north and moved down south?” Dad did the math and said “more than a thousand bags of kibble and several bags of crunchables (i.e. rawhide chewies)”. I said “Done, we’re outta here.”
Mom and Dad sold the house in two days to nice people who want it immediately. So we’re moving in less than two weeks. With luck, we’ll see Wendy somewhere on our way down south … but if we don’t see her, I’m giving up … she’s gone … she may have never existed in the first place. Or she did and I loved her dearly, whatever. She’s not here, and that’s all that matters, peeps.
Mom told me to figure out if there were any toys I wanted the movers to move. I said “all of ’em”!!
Then Mom said “No, pick a dozen or so” and I gave her the old-fashioned “Dashie Glare”.
You know what that look means, #amirite? That look means “Two dozen toys or we cancel the move.”
Dad says we cannot back out of a legally binding contract after earnest money has been deposited.
You know what I think of that?
Then I ransacked the toys in a fit of rage. That’s what happens when Wendy is nowhere to be found.
That’s when Mom told me to take a time out. and I obliged.
So we sold our house for at least a thousand bags of kibble. Sounds like a good deal to me. This week I get to stop and smell the roses … and smell the pee-mail … then the following week, we begin our adventure as we head south back to our Arizona home.
P.S.: Mom says there’s no way she’s gonna sit and tolerate 115 degrees a day every day for 10 weeks, so one might theorize that some quality RV time is in the offing …