Yesterday I woke my mom at 5:30 AM (not 5, as she claims). I demanded to Go Outside, immediately. Since we live on the third floor of a city building, Mom had to put on her coat and shoes. She had to snap on my leash and grab her keys. We had to ride the elevator.
Fortunately, my mom sleeps in her sweats in winter and old gym shorts in summer. She says she needs to be ready to answer the door or go out for a fire alarm at a moment’s notice. Personally, I think she just doesn’t want to shop for proper night attire.
It’s all the same to me. I’m naked 24/7.
“Gracie, it’s Sunday morning,” she moaned. “The papers haven’t even arrived yet. Can’t you let me sleep another hour?”
C’mon, mom. it’s good for you. You need to get to the gym. I need to go to the Dog Lounge.
Oh no. Mom dialed a familiar number. “Hi, Summer. It’s Gracie’s mom here.” (She really says that when she calls the dog lounge or the vet. A Freudian analyst would have a field day.) “Gracie’s been a little…um..her tummy seems…I can still bring her in? Terrific.”
Whew. Thank goodness Summer has some common sense. I wouldn’t want to miss my favorite day at the Dog Lounge.
And I wasn’t sick at all. Just to be safe, mom gave me rice and a small serving of dog food last night. I was hungry! Since I’m not doing anything suspicious, she gave me bigger helpings this morning. We’re almost back to normal.