I am very lucky. I have a beautiful family. My first mom had lots of Griffs, and she knew I needed my own family. She was right. Now I have my one, the way Tony Soprano had his family. It is mine, and I am the boss. If you break, the rules expect the stink face.
I have been incredibly lucky when it comes to second moms. I adore mine. Her lap is perfect. Her food is exquisite. When she looks at me, there is so much love in her eyes. Her voice makes my ears perk up. She is superb at petting. She gives the best belly rubs ever.
She does do one thing I cannot tolerate. She leaves! She doesn’t go often. Some weeks she only leaves on Saturday, but that is too often for me. If Pocket and I are left alone and are crated, I give out the most pitiful cries from my prison. They are part desperation, part sadness, part manipulation. My eyes fill with tears, my mouth droops, and I pour on the guilt, delivering the full McLachlan. Somehow Mommy finds the strength to leave. I immediately attempt a jailbreak. Most days I am unsuccessful, but when I do get free I scamper around the house until she comes home and says: “Christ, how did you get loose?”
I love when she calls me Christ.
When she is leaving me and Pocket alone with daddy, I do everything I can to stop her. That means I wrap my paws around her leg and hold on for dear life. Mommy has to break my grip with two hands and keep pushing me down to get out of the house.
I settle on down Daddy’s lap if there to wait for mom to come home. Unless I see a car go by, or there is a noise, or a person walks by, or a bird flaps her wing. Then I get off the chair and run around the house barking. That is 90 percent of the time. Daddy yells “Christ,won’t you be quiet.”
I am so touched: Christ is a term of great affection in the human language.
When she comes home, whether I am crated or with daddy, I jump up, give her my crazy smile, and wag my stumpy tail. Then all is right with my world again.
My parents saved me and brought me to their home. It isn’t strange that I never want them to leave.
Is it?
Hope it was a wonderful day
ReplyDeleteLily & Edward
We enjoyed this so much......mom really needed a good old laugh today....you sweet kid you. stella rose
ReplyDeleteHappy Gotcha Day! Sounds like you are doing some great human training. Enjoy YOUR special day.
ReplyDeleteHappy Gotcha Day River - maybe the peeps should find a way to have everything delivered and then they would never have to leave you
ReplyDeletehugs
MR Bailey, Hazel & Mabel
All we can say, River, is Christ, you are adorable:)
ReplyDeleteHappy Gotcha Day!!!
Woos - Ciara and Lightning
You should be glad she leaves you at home. When we get to go, we end up at the vet or groomer where we are doomed.
ReplyDeleteHappy Gotcha Day!
ReplyDeleteSometimes my momma calls me Christ too. Sometimes, some udder less, not-so-complimentary words.
You have one of the best Moms and, yes, you are one lucky pup! Hap-Pee Gotcha Day (even though you don't want to get "over celebrated".
ReplyDeletePeeS (Got Cake?????)
BOL!!! Oh,you gots the bestest family in the worlds fursure!!! Ma calls me LOTS of thingies, butts never such a lovely word...she said I can't tell you all the thingies she calls me because this is a G rated bloggie! BOL!
ReplyDeleteAnyhu, Have a nice Gotcha Day! there, not over celebrated....☺
Kisses,
Ruby ♥
I think its a complement to call you that!
ReplyDeletelove
tweedles
We can't tell you the pet name our humans have for us at times like that. Sydney is especially good at wrapping her arms around human parts. Sometimes it takes two people to loosen her hold. Keep up the good work.
ReplyDeleteNot a thing wrong with wanting to always be with the other half of your heart dear River. We seem to know them as soon as we see them. The other part of what makes us whole.
ReplyDeleteLove, Molly and my Mom