7:45am
Calm before the storm…or calm before the calm?
If Dorian veers off and decides to vacation elsewhere, how
do I tell the dogs? They were so excited, having been raised with the stories,
the dog lore passed down generation to generation. Tales of a time when their
ancestors had the house all to themselves for a whole week. All the steak and
ground beef they could stuff down. Ice cream, peeled shrimp, crab cakes…
We had lost power, so Carla and I checked into a no-dogs
hotel. We ate out every night and had a wonderful vacation, but the dogs had to
stay home by themselves. Fenced yard, doggie door, the whole house to run
around in and no one to tell them to get off the bed.
Sweet!
I stopped by twice a day to dole out the thawing meat from
the freezer. Another sirloin, girl? How about a nice dish of Beef Bourguignon?
You know how to spit out the mushrooms.
Now it’s a beautiful morning and they’re starting to mope
around. They can smell disappointment a mile away. Maybe I’ll give them one of
the cheap hot dogs I keep just for situations like this. After all, they don't
drink vodka. Just something to take their mind off of their certain
disappointment when I break the news.
They were really looking forward to running loose in the
wind and rain when it gets crazy outside.
Me too.
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