Dear Jupiter:
Hello pumpkin.
Most of the time you're a very good boy. That is what I kept telling myself today, as you have, so far:
1. Run away when I produced the harness you wear in the car. I know, I know, you don't like that kind of harness, but sugarbutt, you wouldn't have to wear this kind if you hadn't eaten the other one. And did you have to eat it while actually in the car? I thought you were all safe and secure until I opened the back door (half-asleep, as always in the AM) and you rocketed out to The Land of Giant Liver Treats or wherever it is you think you're going to go once freed from the tyranny of the leash. Let me tell you, my little noisette, no such thing exists. I'm as good as it gets. Really.
2. Paced and whined in the back seat the whole way to work; or more accurately, you alternated pacing with standing over me and dripping nose juice onto my shirt. What's with the sudden car fear, anyway? Did you have a bad dream or something?
3. Peed all over your bed when I left you for half an hour to do a consult with a new client. Honeypants, I know it's scary, but I always come back, OK? I have to earn money to keep you in food and treats and, apparently, beds.
4. Bobbed and weaved and played "statue" as I attempted to walk you back to the car whilst also toting said pee-pee bed. I'm proud that I managed to be calm and collected while you danced in between my legs, causing me to repeatedly whap myself with your drippy, stank bedding, but, muffinlips, I kind of wanted to boot your ass a solid half-mile. Just so you know.
But right now you are sleeping peacefully (next to your bed. Seriously, what is WRONG with you?) and I am willing to forgive. For now.
Most of the time you're a very good boy. That is what I kept telling myself today, as you have, so far:
1. Run away when I produced the harness you wear in the car. I know, I know, you don't like that kind of harness, but sugarbutt, you wouldn't have to wear this kind if you hadn't eaten the other one. And did you have to eat it while actually in the car? I thought you were all safe and secure until I opened the back door (half-asleep, as always in the AM) and you rocketed out to The Land of Giant Liver Treats or wherever it is you think you're going to go once freed from the tyranny of the leash. Let me tell you, my little noisette, no such thing exists. I'm as good as it gets. Really.
2. Paced and whined in the back seat the whole way to work; or more accurately, you alternated pacing with standing over me and dripping nose juice onto my shirt. What's with the sudden car fear, anyway? Did you have a bad dream or something?
3. Peed all over your bed when I left you for half an hour to do a consult with a new client. Honeypants, I know it's scary, but I always come back, OK? I have to earn money to keep you in food and treats and, apparently, beds.
4. Bobbed and weaved and played "statue" as I attempted to walk you back to the car whilst also toting said pee-pee bed. I'm proud that I managed to be calm and collected while you danced in between my legs, causing me to repeatedly whap myself with your drippy, stank bedding, but, muffinlips, I kind of wanted to boot your ass a solid half-mile. Just so you know.
But right now you are sleeping peacefully (next to your bed. Seriously, what is WRONG with you?) and I am willing to forgive. For now.
posted by Bathtub Mary at 9:16 AM
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