Moving In: Finally We All Get Some Sleep

My mom and I just spent our third night in our new home. I am feeling a lot more comfortable since she unpacked my beds. Things feel almost normal again. Of course, the mom can’t find my supper dish so I am still reduced to eating from a paper plate.

“At least you are eating,” my mom pointed out. “Millions of dogs are hungry and cold out there. Some are chained to a post. You get to walk around the city with me and you eat healthful, high-quality food.”

Doesn’t she sound like a real mom sometimes?

We were both surprised to see how well the cats settled. Creampuff, our ditziest housemate, has already embarked on a campaign to leave little white hairs all over the dark colored couch we inherited from the previous owners. She likes our new windows. The views are much more interesting than we had in our former place. She can look out at neighboring balconies and see an occasional dog. She can look down at the trees and watch birds.

There’s only one piece of bad news. I am supposed to be fitted for a muzzle. How undignified. A princess should always run free. Actually, my own beloved Aunt Sara made the suggestion and our veterinarian concurred. I can’t help it. I like to eat whatever I can find, including some unmentionable things in the dog park. Apparently the muzzle will let me bark and drink water but not eat all those wonderful things I find in dark corners of the park.

“It’s much kinder,” Aunt Sara reassured the mom. “Otherwise we have to keep yelling at her and squirting her.” Hey, I don’t mind. I just ignore everything when I have certain objects in my mouth.

“And we won’t have to shove pills down her throat or have her skip a meal,” my mom said. “She can eat regular food.”

Now we’re talking.

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