Monday, September 7, 2009

Day Three

Labor Day 2009. Oxford, Traveller, and Emmy arise at 8:30 AM. This is later than the dogs wished and earlier than Emmy wished. Such is life.

: Good thing Emmy let us out in the middle of the night, or I would have burst. I gotta go again. Wake her like you did yesterday.

Traveller: Head on the bed, soulful look . . . she's up! I like it when she gives us treats first thing in the morning.

Oxford: Mmmph. Chewy.

Traveller: Mmmph. Did I tell you Emmy let me lick her toes?

Oxford: Emmy let me lick her oatmeal bowl.

Traveller: She did?????

Oxford: No, I just wanted to make you jealous. Hey, she's opening her suitcase. Maybe Emmy's leaving.

Traveller: I don't want Emmy to leave. Especially since she stopped taking so many pictures.

Oxford: She probably has all the pictures she needs. Let's face it, we do the same stuff every day. Get up, do our thing in the yard, eat . . .

Traveller: . . . snooze, chew on a bone, look out the front door, play Pirates . . .

Oxford: . . . aggravate the Schnauzer, ruin Mom's mulch, eat, play with The Kid, walk with Dad, eat, and conk out on the dog beds. Every day is pretty much the same.

Traveller: Every day is not the same. You left out tummy rubs.

Oxford: And tummy rubs.

Traveller: Oxford, you're my best friend.

Oxford: You're mine, too, buddy.

Traveller: I love you, man.

Oxford: Hey, don't go all Lassie on me. Remember, we're guys. Want to play "Pirates?"

Traveller: Catch me if you can! Arrrrgh!

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Day Two

Early Sunday morning. Emmy, the dogs, and the cat, Aggie, are in the guest room.

Oxford: I wish Emmy would wake up. I need to go out.

Traveller: You've got a small bladder, dude. I'll nudge Emmy's hand. Now she's awake.

: She's up! She's downstairs! She's unlocking the back door. Ahhhhhhh. Now that feels better. Hey, want to play "Pirates?"

Traveller: My favorite game! Arrrgh, Matey—catch me if you can!

Oxford: Arrrrgh.

Traveller: Ouch!

: Sorry. It was supposed to be a love bite. Give up?

Traveller: Not yet. Oh no. Emmy's taking pictures.

Oxford: Ha! I tackled you good, buddy. You're going to look funny in her blog. Arrrrgh—gotcha.

Traveller: OK, OK, uncle.

Oxford: Whew. I'm winded.

Traveller: Uh oh. Emmy's bringing out the Furminator.

Oxford: I don't like that thing. You just sit there, buddy, while she brushes you. I'm staying waaaaay over here.

* * * * * * *

Sunday afternoon

Traveller: I hear a car. Good thing. I'm getting a little stiff in this crate.

Oxford: Is it Mom and Dad? It doesn't sound like their engine.

Traveller: It's Emmy. Hey, Emmy! Can I come out of my crate first?

Oxford: Me next. Race you to the back door, buddy. I gotta see a man about a horse.
Traveller: I'm hungry. I wish we could eat the cat's food.

Oxford: You're such a goody two shoes. Watch me sneak over to Aggie's bowl, heh, heh. Uh oh, Emmy saw me. Wait. Did you hear that? The Schnauzer is outside! Run to the back door!

Traveller: I'm with you. Open! Door!

Oxford: Run to the fence! The fence is ours, you little mutt. Ours! I lift my leg on this plank. I lift my leg to your measly gray behind!

Traveller: Fence! Ours!

Oxford: Ours! Arrrgh! Hey, want to play "Pirates?!"

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Day One

Saturday morning. Mom and Dad and Daughter are preparing to drive to West Virginia for the weekend.

Oxford: Something is going on here. I think everyone is leaving. The Kid is wearing her backpack, Mom's running around, and Dad's jingling his keys.

Traveller: Who's at the door?

Oxford: Don't know. I'll sniff her crotch. Thought so—it's a lady. Dad says her name is Emmy the Pet Sitter.

Traveller: Uh oh. Everyone is going into the garage. Yeah, it's a road trip.

Oxford: I always watch as they drive away. I don't know why.

Traveller: Me too. I always watch.

Oxford: The sitter is scratching behind my ear. Nice.

Traveller: Hey, Emmy, over here. Scratch me! Oh, that's good.

Oxford: Emmy's walking toward the back door. Quick, show her we want to go out—press your nose on the screen.

Traveller: Nose to screen, check. Yes! Wow, it feels great to run. We've been inside for, like, 15 minutes.

Oxford: I'm just glad to lift my leg. Oh, no. It's the Schnauzer next door. Run to the fence!

Traveller: I'm looking through the fence and see one . . . beady . . . little . . . eye. Hey! Back off! The fence is ours!

Oxford: Ours! I lift my leg on the fence! I'll show that little so-and-so who's boss.

Traveller: Gotta go—Emmy's calling. Uh oh, she has a camera.

Oxford: Time to pose, big guy.

Traveller: You want me to sit? This is not fun. Oxford, it's your turn.

Oxford: Not me, buddy. I'm sitting this one out, so to speak.

Traveller: That camera is glued to Emmy's face. She's taking pictures of us for a blog.

Oxford: Blogging? The thought makes me yawn. I'm ready for a nap.

Traveller: Me too.

* * * * * *

That evening

Oxford: This . . . bone is . . . delicious.

Traveller: You left slivers on the rug. Emmy will have to vacuum.

Oxford: She doesn't seem to mind. She ate cheese popcorn and let me lick her fingers.

Traveller: I sneezed on her leg—twice—and she just laughed.

Oxford: Know how Dad showed her how to make us sit and wait before we go outside? She doesn't get mad when I don't sit right away.

Traveller: If you would sit sooner we could go outside sooner.

Oxford: But I want her to know who's boss. So, you like Emmy?

Traveller: Yeah. She rubbed my belly with her foot when she watched TV.

Oxford: I like her, too. But then, we like everyone.

Traveller: We do. We like everyone!