It’s Happening…(or Guest Post VII)

Woff! Did you notice I didn’t say hiff there as I usually do? There is a reason for that. Today is not a good Sunday. Mom is going on a work trip again. How do I know for sure? Her purple suitcase is open on the guest room bed. She calls it her little carry on, but to me it looks huge. That’s a sure sign. I jumped on the bed and checked it out. It’s still empty, but soon she’ll be running back and forth between her closet and her office. It’s confusing, I can’t keep up with her. That’s when I know it’s happening…

And today she also opened the drawer in her office. That’s where her black flight folder is. Ah, she took out her passport! It’s not gonna be a very longf trip. I know cause I pay attention. And soon she’ll print her ticket, she’s so predictable. I know everything in the house, most of the time in advance. I sense things. I don’t like surprises – other than new kinds of treats or toys. I’m expecting those surprises, so when I get them it’s more like my dream come true. But do know that I’m always genuinely grateful. Mom says my tail goes 50 miles/hour when I’m happy. But now I’m not. I think I’ll put my tail between my legs very shortly.

I mentioned my dreams. Yes, I dream a lot. Mostly it feels good. Sometimes I sense my feet working the running motion on the bed and sometimes I bark really loud. I wonder if it sounds as loud to mom and dad or just like a little whimper. That would be embarrassing. I almost never bark otherwise. Only when someone knocks on the door. I have to protect the house. I get paid for that. You know … food, walks, rubs and treats on a regular basis. I also get lots of love but consider that more like a swap. Love for love. I’m sure I’m giving more, but who counts.  And it feels good to have a positive balance on that.

Anyway, I wonder if there is anything I could do to get mom stay at home. Maybe I should go to the deli and buy a lotto ticket? People buy them so I’m sure they win money, why would they buy them otherwise? Or I could always fake an illness, like collapsing on the floor and holding my breath. But that’s not me. I could never do that. It’s not honest. I’m an honest dog and I’m trusted. No pretends here, you get what you see. And I’m mature, such pranks are not for someone almost 12-year-old.

Maybe I have to face it. Mom will be gone tomorrow, and I bet it’ll be very early. I’ll need to cuddle with dad for a while. But he’s not mom. He gives me treats though and real man-sized portions of food. I have to watch my weight with him so mom doesn’t think I’m fat when she comes home. I don’t want to be put on a diet. One bone a day keeps the doctor away is not for me. I’m happy you didn’t see me smile…my two front teetf are missing.

But I hope I can talk with mom on the phone. Dad hasn’t allowed that since the time I stopped eating for two days after talking to mom. But that’s long ago, I was very childish then, not mature like now. I hope he has forgotten that little incident. Dad, I will not stop eating if you allow me to talk to mom, pleeease! Otherwise I’ll have to ask for a doggy phone. I saw one online, but I’m usually not to things that are unnecessary.

I also hope mom doesn’t take her laptop, I might be able to jumpf up and give some status reports while she’s gone…just might. Take careff nowff.

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