On Thanksgiving morning, Mike sneaked out for the airport well before dawn. I got out of my crate to say goodbye to Mike, then hopped into bed with Heather for a few hours. Good deal! And Mike’s absence only got better from there.
My pal Charlie came over to take me for a late-morning walk in the park, which was very nice thing to do for his self-proclaimed “favorite Seattle dog.” We walked at least a couple of miles so we could burn off a few calories before our Turkey Day feast. Well, a turkey feast for Heather and me, anyway; Charlie, a vegetarian, was going back to his lonely apartment to cook himself a casserole of baked ziti with cheese. I hoped he made enough so he can eat leftovers for a week, amortizing his culinary effort. Charlie admits that he used to make a mean eggplant Parmigiano (verified by my Aunt Susie) but switched to ziti because it’s easier to cook. He showed us a picture, though, and Mike had to admit it looks at least 10 cuts above any ziti casserole served in large aluminum foils trays at wakes, church suppers and political fundraisers throughout the U.S. and Canada. Charlie’s looks like something worth licking right down to the caked-on burned cheese on the perimeter of the casserole dish.
But I digress. Heather and I ate Thanksgiving dinner with my pal Penny and her family at their house. I was my usual obnoxious self, playing with all of Penny’s favorite toys and trying to ignore her completely. Although I didn’t get to lick any plates or pans like I would have at home, Penny and I did manage to con a few scraps, and Brian sent me home with a doggie bag of turkey that was doled out to me in ample proportions until Miser Mike returned.
On the day after Thanksgiving, I accompanied Heather to her office. I was delighted when we arrived there, expecting to see all my office buddies, but perplexed when none was there. I went dashing from one office door to another, but all were shut or dark and, even worse for me, treat-less. So I was forced to hang out all day in my blue chair guarding Heather’s desk until we went outside for a pee or up to the empty, second-floor conference room for ball-tossing. In between I’m in my chair, but it’s hard for me to relax, even though Heather added a comfortable pillow to my seat. I just can’t fall asleep, as I would be doing if I were home with Mike. In Heather’s office I must be on guard and ready to pounce at all times, especially when we’re in the building all alone. I take my job seriously. My record remained intact.
We woke up to snow on Saturday morning, so Heather stayed home all day rather than brave the drive up and down and up all the hills between our house and the main drag. This was also great for me, because Heather and I took a long walk through the park in the snow, which we don’t get to do too often. It was AMAZING how great everything smelled; the snow must catch all of those great smells and compress them and hold them down. Or something. Anyway, I enjoyed doing the “Chloë Hop” around the meadow, but I drew the line when Heather took me down to the North Beach. Yikes, those white caps on the Sound were scary; I was afraid I was going to be swept out to sea, only to be rescued by harbor seals and eagles. Come on! Who’s going to buy a story like that?
On the next two days, Heather left me home and went to work, but Lynn came over in the afternoon, which was a lot more fun for me than being in Heather’s office with no buddies to hit for treats. Lynn and I did our usual things: I jumped all over her, sat with her by the fireplace, ran errands in her car, took walks, had treats, bit her nose. I’m glad I got to spend a little time with Lynn; we had been scheduled to spend the whole weekend together, until Heather had to work and couldn’t go away with Mike. I’m sure Lynn was disappointed that our time together was so limited, but I’ll try to make it up to her.
Tuesday morning before I went to work with Heather, I took off in the park during our morning walk , making her late for a meeting. When I finally returned to Heather’s anxious embrace and wrath, I had a couple spots of blood on my designer sweater. At least, that’s what Heather said they were. Mike thought it was just dirt, which is yet another reason why I love Heather more than Mike.
OK, even though I got more to eat and had to endure fewer tooth and hair brushings while Mike was away, I admit I was glad when he was home to greet us when Heather and I returned from our day at her office. Finally, I could relax, close my eyes and get a good night’s sleep. And morning’s sleep. And an afternoon nap. And a couple of short, post-dinner naps for good measure.