Boy oh boy...we spoke too soon!
We no sooner got the muzzer back from St. Loulis, but the Dad person left us here to take care of the muzzer person, saying that he had to go to a conference!
(that is the Dad person on the far right of the photo. He is the one in the striped shirt!)
Anyway, he went off to some place called Dart Mouth.
Me and Teka think that sounds rather uncomfortable, but hey..you can see that it does not look like too bad a place, huh?
But our routine, which me and Teka cherish, has been greatly altered.
Well, we still get up in the morning at Oh Dark Thirty (that's what muzzer says.) And go for walkies.
Usually we bound down the stairs, wait for the hoomans to get coats, boots, and stuff on, and then go out the side door, across the deck, and out the driveway. There, Dad picks me up, and muzzer picks up Teka, and we cross the invisible fence line.
Well...without the Dad here, we have to get in the car, open the gate, drive to the street, park the car, and only then can we take walkies! Now, I am a seven year old dog (and I will soon be eight!) and my bladder is not too happy about this. Teka is pissed too.
This goes on EVERY TIME either one of us wants to go walkies. About five times a day, at an estimate. And all because Muzzer cannot do like Dad does and pick up both up at one time to carry us across the fence line. Sheesh. We are putting her on a weight lifting program, but her arms may still be too short, ya think?
So, I won't do my doggie duty in the yard, because I don't like it, and muzzer can't carry us both at the same time, and neither of us can be left behind while the other one is walked, because we get frustrated and tear things up.
So, our last walkie of the day is ten o'clock. Pee Emmm...that is usually Dad's quality time with us, because of the fact that muzzer is almost always asleep at that time.
But last night, we did the "getinthecar,openthegate,back out the car,park on the streetandgoforwalkiesthing for the last time a little after ten peemmm.
And the muzzer, who is most famous for being a clutz, managed somehow to fall down on the sidewalk or trip on a leash or something and skinned her hands and her knees and taught me and teka about fourbilliontrillion new HBO words.
But she is doing OK, except for grumbling about dogs and stairs, so we will see if we can do our thing seven or eight more times without further incident and then pick Dad up at the airport (if she can find it again) and all will be "normal" again.
I am a little bit worried that Dad will blame me for not taking care of her, but hey....what's a doggie to do.
Hoomans.
Sometimes I worry about them.
Gussie
