Dog goes on vacation…sort of

My mom Cathy absolutely, positively hates to travel. But the other day she forced herself to pack and make a plane reservation to attend an Internet marketing conference, whatever that is.

While she’s off talking seriously about copywriting and marketing, I get to be a lucky dog. We used to go to the Downtown Dog Lounge on Bell Street, which we both loved. But the Dog Lounge closed so the mom took me to the Barking Lounge.

I was looking forward to a few days of vacation. Playing with the smaller dogs. Helping the receptionist greet visitors and administer temperament tests.

And of course I love getting away from my owner and having some fun. Mom is a good owner but she tends to be a little overzealous when it comes to my welfare. She eats right and exercises so she thinks I should too.

When we checked into the Barking Lounge, she told the desk person, “Gracie loves to chew. Don’t put anything in her crate that she could chew up. She chewed up a whole towel last week. And she’s an escape artist. Worse than a cat.”

Gee, thanks mom. There goes my fun. Fortunately the nice attendant came to escort me to my temporary den. I’m supposed to get a whole cot of my very own.

Anyway, my mom was starting to embarrass me. They gave us a list of stuff to bring (“just like summer camp,” mom said) and of course Cathy was taking it out of her bag. “See, this is her food, here are her treats, and her toy…” Then she realized they could figure this out for themselves.

“Do you think I brought enough food?” she asked.

“I think you’re good to go,” the guy at the desk said.

“Oh…as in I should go, right?” Mom said.

They didn’t disagree. Good thing Cathy never had human kids. It’s bad enough that I’m seen with her in public.

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