Mama hasn’t touched her blog in nearly two weeks, so I’m pitch-hitting for her.
Even though I’m kinda mad with her.
You see, she left me at the kennel while she and Grandma went to The Kid’s big hoop-de-doo. You know him as Domer, but to me, he’s The Kid.
And we’ve been together a long time — six years, in fact.
When Mama first brought me home, The Kid was a little guy. Fifteen, I think. And he was scared of doggins.
Because we have toofies. And can stand on our back legs to jump on people.
But Mama quickly taught me not to bite — not even in play — and not to jump.
Truth be told, I didn’t particularly like jumping anyway. I’m a herding dog, not a circus monkey!
Anyway, The Kid and I grew up together. I taught him to like dogs; he let me lick his sweat after he’d come home from golf and tennis. I taught him to throw a ball; he taught me to bring it back. He taught me to play Chase and Hide and Seek; I taught him unconditional love.
So it was only right for Mama to take me to see The Kid graduate.
I’d have been good. Honest.
I could’ve stayed in the motel. I wouldn’t “go” on the rug or bite the housekeeping staff or howl long and loud.
I wouldn’t have been any trouble at all.
But they stuck me in the kennel. I’ve been there before, though never for this long. And they say dogs can’t tell time — huh!
The kennel’s nice, all things considered. There’s other dogs and cats around, they feed me the same stuff Mama does, and they even take me for walks.
But I wanted to be with my family.
Mama’s back now. So’s Grandma and The Kid.
They surely don’t expect me to believe it took this long for him to graduate. I don’t know for certain, but I think another trip was squeezed in there somewhere.
To a place called “abroad.”
I don’t know what that was about, but I’ll tell Mama to blog it for you, okay?