Sometimes I get displaced from my own blog. Here’s what happened.
“Gracie, here’s a really lucky dog,” my mom said. “This is Rocket. I was walking up Virginia from First Avenue on my way to the gym. As I walked by a store, I did a double take. Was that a dog on a cushion? In the window? A live dog?”
My mom was behind schedule. She had to go to the gym and the massage therapist, but she stopped and went inside. Sure, it was a live dog. She asked if she could take a picture. Now that she’s got one of those phones with a camera, there’s no stopping her.
Rocket is one lucky dog. He gets a soft cushion on his own chair. Unlike me, he’s not competing with a cat for the same small space. See the previous post and you’ll understand what I mean.
Nobody bothers Rocket. Not a cat in sight. He gets to look out the window in between naps. All kinds of people walk by and walk in. He has a real job greeting all the customers.
“You’ve got a job too,” my mom says. “I work at home. You make me take breaks and go outside every single day. You make people smile on the bus. You give me a conversation piece. As your Uncle Lance likes to say, you’re an accessory.”
Yeah, yeah. I have a good life. But I still say that Rocket is one lucky dog.