Yesterday my mom Cathy was operating in frazzle mode. She was trying to make a recording for her blog and the system wasn’t cooperating. She wasn’t hearing from the guy who promised to paint our new condo. “We need to paint before we move, if at all possible,” she said.
A normal dog owner would pour a tall cool drink and collapse on the sofa with her dog. Not the mom. She looked at her watch, shoved me unceremoniously into my crate, and changed into her workout clothes.
“George’s zumba class starts in twenty minutes!” she said, as she tossed down some crunchies for the cats. (They eat only when I am out or in my crate. Otherwise I eat their food. Frankly, I don’t see why that’s a problem.) “If the bus doesn’t come right away I’m calling a cab. I need a workout!”
When she returned home two hours later she was humming a little tune and shaking her booty in time to mysterious Latin rhythms. I averted my eyes and focused on communicating an urgent, “We need a walk” message.
“Not only did I get a great workout,” Cathy told me, “I found a place where I can take my box to be shredded. We have way too much for a home office shredder. One less worry.”
We all went to bed early. Sure enough, today we’re getting names of other painters. I’m feeling strong and feisty after weeks of being under the weather.
And a one and a two and a cha-cha-cha….