Mike went to Florida for a week to help pack up his mom’s apartment for her upcoming move to Syracuse. I know, I know: Florida/Syracuse ? It does not compute. But it’s happening, with the blessing of Mike and my Aunt Susie. I know this because I hear them talking about it all the time on the phone, which is conveniently situated just above my bed in the office. I pretend to be sleeping, but there’s only so much beauty sleep one girl needs. I just keep my eyes closed and listen. Susie usually gets all worked up about the New York Mets and starts to raise her voice on the whole call, so I have no problem hearing both ends of their conversations. I’ve got the inside scoop on what’s going on. (I already know that Mike is going back to Florida for the move.)
While Mike was away the last time, I went to the office with Heather for five days straight (with a weekend in the middle). Heather was always busy, so I didn’t have as much fun this time. Hardly any other dogs came into work, and Heather took me on no out-of-office car trips for a walk. We threw my ball a lot, outside around the grounds, in the huge parking lot and in the big, empty room upstairs. I like the carpet up there, but there are no squirrels or rabbits to entice me.
Heather also made me sit through several boring meetings, and sometimes she went to other meetings at which my attendance apparently wasn’t needed. Heather left me all alone in her office, tethered to my blue camp chair. I can proudly report I never left my post once, and nothing was stolen from her desk while Heather was gone. Sometimes people even came into the office to leave things for Heather, and they all talked to me and gave me treats, probably to reward my vigilance. I sniffed all these treats closely before eating them, making sure they didn’t contain anything that might put me to sleep on the job. Luckily, they all passed my sniff test.
Once the word gets out that Chloë’s in the House, many people drop by to see me, even some who don’t have dogs of their own. I heard them tell Heather that they admire my exemplary behavior, my sweet personality and (of course) my beautiful eyebrows and carefree bangs, forever untamed. I had to draw the line, however, when one person (who shall remain unnamed) told Heather than I looked like Josh Groban.
Groban, born Feb. 27, 1981, is an American singer, songwriter, musician, actor and record producer. He has sold over 25 million records worldwide. He’s kinda on the mellow side. Bruce Springsteen, he’s not.
Personally, I don’t see the similarity.
I see myself as rougher and tougher than Mr. Adult Contemporary, Josh Groban, for crying out loud. Come on! I see myself as more of a headbanger…in the Alice Cooper mold. School’s out, forever.