Last Saturday turned into my red-letter day from my standpoint. Heather left the house early and Mike was in charge, which usually turns out well for me. First he took me on a short walk in the park and then we drove out into the country, way past the rock yard, for a hike on the Preston-Snoqualmie Trail. We’ve been there before, but this time we took a spur trail to the east and kept on going, past the bridge over the creek where we turned around last time. The trail eventually led to a park in the Snoqualmie Ridge development, where a kiosk had a map of the area and trail system. Mike started talking to me as he looked at the map, telling me this means there will be a lot of new trails to explore in the future. I hope this trail system doesn’t get popular; we’ve yet to see another person or dog on these trails yet, but there’s evidence mountain bikers use them, and Mike says that’s never good news for dog walking.
Rather than going home, on the way back we stopped at my sometime-weekend getaway, where Heather was already waiting for us. But instead of staying there overnight by ourselves, we just stayed for the afternoon, and a lot of other people were there, including Cindy. It was a party for all the people who work with Cindy and Heather, and I’ve met most of them at their office. But these people all brought along their spouses and kids, so there were lots of scary strangers. What might have been a formula for disaster was dissipated by the familiar locale. Whenever I felt hemmed in, I could visit the barn, dig in the field or throw around Tara’s toys. So if there were a few new people and kids around, I could have cared less. I had plenty of other stuff to do, and besides: When it came to the menu, they put out a pretty good spread. I did lots of undercover grazing.
Even so, the guests were universally lavish in their praise of my behavior, making Heather very proud. Mike, on the other hand, was prouder of his black-eyed pea salad (Texas Caviar). Men!
Personally, I think I did pretty well at this party, considering there were lots of kids and other dogs around, each of them larger than me. I didn’t go “puppy crazy” or act weird even once. True, I may have left a “stay” a little early once or twice, but heck, nobody’s perfect. Especially with so much food lying around.
And when it came to eating, I did myself proud. After a while I made sure no one was watching me and went inside the house, walked across the family room and nudged open the folding door to the closet where I knew Tara’s open food container would be. In seconds, there I was, head in container, crunching merrily… along until Cindy heard me.
Hey, it wasn’t like I ate every piece of kibble in there! And a good thing, too, since later my new dog friends Sheila and Jaeger and I (but not the ditzy Tara, who never stopped running around the pool and barking at the people in it) got to split some huge chunks of salmon skin that had just come off the grill. Boy, it was gooooood, but I wolfed down as much as Mike might cut up and mix into my dry food for a month.
Little did I know at the time that I would pay for my wonton overindulgence of Tara’s food and the salmon. Starting the next morning, my poops doubled in size for several days, and there were lots of them. Mike wasn’t too happy about this, but I’ll go on record right now that I’m always glad to sacrifice a little irregularity for an unexpected feast, no RSVP necessary.