My mom is an exercise nut. She thinks I should be too. So today we went off to the park. I actually played with another dog for a few minutes.

My mom was so happy. It was pathetic. She gets so excited when I play with other dogs. “Good dog, Gracie! Keep playing!” she yells. How embarrassing.

My playmate was a beautiful friendly golden retriever, just like her friend Bill’s dogs. She really misses having a big fuzzy dog like the sainted Keesha.

Well, after about 40 minutes in the park, I was ready to go home. I headed purposefully for the gate. My mom reluctantly said we could go … and then she took us on another walk to the Vine Street garden area. “Hyacinths! Tulips! Forsythia!” she exclaimed happily.

We were home about an hour after we started. My mom was in good spirits. She had even been to zumba class this morning so I was waiting for her to grab me for a nap. Alas, no: she had to work, she said.

Fortunately for me, dogs don’t work. I am crashing. Gotta get rested for Tuesday’s adventure with Aunt Sara.

Hmm…my mom said she’s heard of people getting paid under the table but I’ve set a record for being a dog who’s under the table.

This coffee shop allows dogs. My mom’s visiting with her friend from improv. They’re talking about boring things. They’re not talking about food, treats, toys or dog parks.

Meanwhile I just had a long day with my Aunt Sara. I really hate sleeping on wooden floors. I’m a cushion sort of dog. But hey, there aren’t any pillows around here. We royal folk are flexible. Queen Elizabeth would keep her dignity. My mom says Jackie Kennedy used to sleep on long airplane flghts, right in the cabin. So I’ll be doing the same.

“She’s so good,” everybody says. “So well-behaved.”

My mom just rolls her eyes. She’s given up explaining that I’m actually a high-maintenance spoiled dog. And she knows the truth: no dog is perfect. I come close.

Chef Scott Carsberg of Bisato adores me. My mom adores the restaurant and she goes there whenever she can find a special occasion. They serve nouvelle cuisine – very healthy and delicious. In summer I am allowed to sit outside at one of the small tables in front of the restaurant.

Sometimes my job is to give people a dog fix. That’s what I’m doing now. See, mom? I earn my keep. When she goes to the restaurant I bet she gets great service because of me.

Since we moved we are just next door to my mom’s bank. My mom always takes me along. She likes to combine her errands with lots of dog walks.
“So you get exercise, Gracie,” she says, “and I get everything done.”

So while she deposits her checks, I get to scarf some treats from the Relationship Manager, Jessica. Hey – we’re relating, right?

We don’t have a television so we don’t watch commercials. However, my mom was watching a show on Hulu.com when she caught a flash of a Subaru commercial, where dogs drive the car.

“You didn’t know my first dog, Keesha,” she told Ophelia and me. Creampuff knew Keesha of course but she was off hiding and being ditzy as usual.

“Keesha used to wait for me in my car,” she said, sounding a little sad. “I’d come back from the store or the gym and she’d be sitting behind the steering wheel. People would make jokes like, ‘That dog wants to drive.’”

Uh… mom, you had a car?! Ophelia and I have been strictly buses and cabs.

“And,” she continued, “I would say, ‘Keesha, you know better! Get in back.’ And Keesha would give me that look – ‘You caught me!’ – and jump to the back seat.”

That’s a trick? My mom was clearly besotted.

She went off to Youtube to look up more videos of dogs driving Subarus. Her favorite is (naturally) the parking commercial where the dogs get beat out by a large fuzzy cat.

I have to watch over Mom’s shoulder because my paws don’t fit the keys. You can just click the play button.

My mom was so impressed when she saw this small dog in a pink coat.

“That dog is SO cute!” she exclaimed. She insisted on taking a picture. As far as she remembers, the dog is Bella and the owner is Tasha.

Notice how Tasha has chosen a beautiful pink coat for her dog – very becoming in color and style. And Bella’s owner is so well-dressed. She’s wearing fashionable high-heeled boots, even in the dog park.

Needless to say, I’ll probably never get a pink coat trimmed in fake fur. My mom says I’d chew it up. She’s probably right. And of course I’m not as small and furry as Bella.

“You’re cute in a different way,” the mom says firmly. “And you don’t need a coat. You have adventure outings with your Aunt Sara. Be grateful!”

If my mom had human children, their therapy bills would cost more than care and feeding of a dozen large dogs.

To be fair, my mom hasn’t worn any shoes except sneakers as far back as she can remember. She wears her aging parka to the dog park … and also to the symphony, the ballet and her improv classes. “I couldn’t squeeze my feet into those beautiful boots,” she says wistfully. “It’s nice to see people in the park who can add a touch of class.”