My mom was crazy-busy all day today. She was in one of her rare bad moods. I heard her mutter about juggling copywriting jobs, missing connections, losing things and a bunch of other stuff.
Here’s where I really earn my overpriced crunchies.
If Cathy doesn’t take me out, I’ll drive her nuts. I need exercise or I’ll be so hyper she won’t be able to hear herself talk on the phone, let alone write decent copy.
So we go to the dog park. Cathy always enjoys chatting with Lindsay, the volunteer park steward. “Sort of like the mayor of the dog park,” she says.
We haven’t seen Lindsay in awhile so I greet her enthusiastically while Nathan, a young man with a cell phone camera, recognizes a photo op. That’s Lindsay in her red hat, green sweatshirt and sardonic smile.
Later, as we walk by Macrina Bakery, we are greeted by a 30-something guy sitting outside in the sun. Cathy recognizes a dog lover so she asks if he’ll watch me for a minute while she goes inside to get something sinful to have with her coffee this afternoon. Naturally he thanks her for sharing me. Everybody does.
“I need a treat today,” Cathy tells me, as we head for the bus stop.
Hey, what about me? Who got her out, into the bright spring sunshine that brought her mood back to normal (more or less)? Who got her into friendly conversations with live people? Isn’t this why Cathy adopted me?
I deserve a treat too. Yesterday’s chewy is history. I’m going on strike…but first, it’s dinner and a nap.