A Long, Lonely Week

Hello … it’s me.

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It’s been a long, lonely week. Mom is in Houston at the Intergalatic Quilt show. She’s taking in all the sights and sounds …

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I guess she’s there because 50,000 people are looking at her quilt. Whatevs.

I’m sitting here like a fool, waiting for Mom to come home. She left on Sunday. I asked Dad on Tuesday … “Is Mom coming home today?” He said no.

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About twenty seconds later I reiterated my query. Again, I was told “no”.

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I woke up Wednesday brimming with hope … only to have my hopes dashed (see what I did there?) … I tried to laugh it off …

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On Thursday we went for a golf cart ride … I asked Dad if we were driving to the airport to pick up Mom … Dad said “no”.

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When we got back from my ride I sat outside in the back yard, lamenting my circumstances.

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Only the dulcet tones of the braking system of a UPS truck could take my attention off of my Mom.

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On Thursday night I heard a car pull up in the driveway …

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I was both thrilled and flabbergasted when I found out that Mom didn’t drive up but instead it was my friend Rob from California.

I spent most of Friday doting over my friend, following him wherever he went (until he, too, left me for a period of time). I made sure I let him know how I felt about having him leave me for a few hours.

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Dad tells me that Mom is coming home tomorrow. I sure hope so. It’s been a long, lonely week, #amirite?

Transition

Hello … it’s me!!

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That’s the blank look of a pup who lost 1.4 pounds in the past six weeks. For those of you keeping score at home, that’s like a human losing 10-15 pounds. And with an obesity epidemic running wild across America, I’m on the right side of the battle, #amirite?

My body isn’t the only thing that is in transition.

Days are in the low 80s now, and that means I get to take long walks without the threat of heat stroke. Sometimes you run into odd situations. For instance, Dad and I were walking past a house and I pottied on or next to the post supporting the mailbox. Nine seconds later the garage door opens and the homeowner comes out and washes the area where I went to the bathroom.

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I looked at Dad and said “Is that normal?” And Dad said “yes, it’s normal for you to have to go to the bathroom.”

Dad inferred that we won’t be walking past Mr. Wilson’s home anytime in the near future.

With the season in full change, the coyotes have taken over the streets.

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I said, “Dad, is that normal?” … and Dad said “As long as they don’t go potty on or near the mailboxes yes, it’s normal.”

Frank visited last weekend. For once, there were two dogs begging for food in our home.

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Did Frank boot me off of the couch? Absolutely.

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But that’s ok, because when Frank was sleeping in the Casita, I was sad. I longed for his company.

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We’ve got a big weekend coming up … our house is on a Home Tour … apparently people want to see what a year-and-a-half of a comprehensive remodel looks like. It’s been a period of transition for everybody, human, canine, home. I’m looking forward to winter!!

 

 

 

Happy Birthday To Me!!

Hello! It’s me, and I’m three!!

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That was me on my first birthday – Mom and Dad conveniently evaded the day by fleeing to Europe and my sitters did this to me.

Needless to say, I told Dad he couldn’t take a picture of me on birthday number three, #amirite?

So Dad says fine, spend the day by yourself. He decided to take the RV to a “Touch a Truck” day.

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Dad began by melting one hundred and fifty chocolate treats in that red bowl within 20 minutes of placing the bowl in the sun. Molten milk chocolate, pups.

Fortunately he had two more bags of unhealthy treats to pass on to the kids.

And the kids did show up … a half-hour early in fact.

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Some of the kids looked really odd … like this one riding the right shoulder of the woman.

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Four hours later and 700 – 1,000 visitors, Dad was done. Here’s the floor of the RV that greeted him after the masses departed.

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Alright.

There were comments. Here’s a sampling of the activity.

 

GUY: Is this your rig?

DAD: Yes.

GUY: Really?

DAD: Yes.

GUY: Why would you do this?

DAD: So the kids can have fun.

GUY: I don’t get it.

 

KID: Can I go in?

DAD: Yes.

MOM: No.

DAD: Huh?

MOM: His teacher sent him home from school for being bad yesterday and I couldn’t get a babysitter so today he can’t go in or climb on anything and one day he will learn there are consequences for his actions.

The kids sobs quietly and nods his head affirmatively.

 

Scene: A 12-ish year old boy is carrying his 4-ish year old sister like a baguette.

BOY: My sister tried to use your toilet.

SISTER (screaming): But I have to go.

 

BOY’S FATHER: Should I get an RV?

BOY: Yeah.

BOY’S FATHER: Then you could drive and I could drink in the back.

MOM stares at my Dad with an unparalleled look of mortification.

 

BOY’S FATHER: Timmy, you shouldn’t keep hitting this guy’s horn non-stop.

RV horn continues to beep.

BOY’S FATHER to my DAD: But you’ve got to admit it’s funny.

 

GUY: I’ll buy it.

DAD: It’s not for sale.

GUY: You’re not a dealer?

DAD: No.

GUY: Darn.

 

 

 

 

Spelling Error

Hello, it’s me.

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Yes, I realize there is a spelling error in my last message. Mind you, I don’t have thumbs, so I can’t quite manage the keyboard on Dad’s phone. I apologize. I was busy with toys from Grandma when I was drafting my message to you, the loyal reader.

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Where, Oh Where Can It Be?

Hello! It’s me!

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It’s bad enough my daily dining opportunities have been cut by about 50% causing me to drink 2x as much water as normal to keep my belly full (and causing me to have to go outside to potty 4x as much to keep my bladder empty, #amirite) … but look at what is hiding behind that black container that I’d like to get my teeth on … a sweet, succulent veggie bone … yes, I’m now at the stage where I’m craving veggie bones.

These are challenging times …

Meteorology, Mesh, Menu

Hello! It’s me.

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Sometimes the veggie bone is on the menu (Sunday and Wednesday). These days, my diet offers me microwaved peas. As long as they’re warm, I’ll eat ’em. I don’t have to like ’em, but I’ll eat ’em.

Dad had hernia surgery this morning. He had separated tissues sewn together coupled with a fancy new mesh. Everything turned out just fine. However, the surgeon rejected my kind offering of surgical assistance via an ample supply of tools.

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Apparently you can’t fix a hernia with a crescent wrench. Who knew?

The featured event of the day was meteorological in nature (see the word play evident there … see what I did … see it … see it?). The remnants of Hurricane Rosa blew through The Valley today. We had more than 2.5 inches of rain at our house (Dad measured the depth of the pool vs. the normal depth as defined by a calcium ring around the pool … not scientific, but not bad for a surgery-addled mind), nearly enough to fill our pool (visit the website to watch the video).

Somebody should have brought the ottomans in, Dad.

My friend Amy sent me this picture, taken as the remnants of the hurricane moved off toward Kansas. I’ve been told that somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly.

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All I know is that bluebirds aren’t forced to eat microwave-heated peas, #amirite?

When September Ends

Hello. It’s me!!

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That’s me at the vet. Needless to say I wasn’t thrilled with the examination. Why is everybody fascinated with placing their hands on my neck?

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Did she fix my bum? Absolutely. Did she put me on a diet? Yes. Said I was overweight. I guess I can’t eat any of these anymore.

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We all deserve a little deep-fried pork fat in our lives, #amirite?

The vet says I could keep up with Frank if I were lighter. She said I’d have a better chance of getting to Dad’s leg first so that Dad isn’t spending quality time with Frank.

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She says if I moved my body and didn’t take public transportation I’d be more fit. I’d like to remind her that it has been 105 degrees or warmer for the past four months.

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She says I need to incorporate more fruit into my diet.

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September is ending … and next week the remnants of Hurricane Rosa will push summer out the door, ushering in temperatures that are at least 15 degrees cooler than they have been. I’m hopeful that when September ends the body shaming ends with it, because I’m hungry!!!