My mom has a guilty secret. She hates Thanksgiving. She’s not exactly warm and fuzzy (duh – have you noticed?) so she doesn’t Get It. Why do people want to hang around, eat too much and pretend to be having fun? OK, maybe some people really have fun.
Not my mom. Cathy hates small talk. She actually detests parties.
“I’d rather stay home and read a good murder mystery. Or maybe watch a video and take Gracie to the dog park.”
I admit I enjoy visiting families on holidays. Everybody makes a big fuss over me. If the host has a dog, I can usually find a dish of dog food that’s tastier than what I get at home. By the end of the day, I am exhausted.
But my mom is less than thrilled. When I eat strange food, my tummy starts doing the tango. So I wake my mom at 3 AM to Go Out — Immediately — to Do My Business.
My mom gets very upset. “Why did I ever adopt another dog?” she asks me. At 3 AM, I must admit, I don’t have a very good answer.
So in the end, I guess I am better off when we just stay home. My mom sticks to her diet and I stick to mine. My mom buried her nose in a new mystery by an author she just discovered – Roberta Isleib – where the heroine is a clinical psychologist. My mom loves to second-guess therapists and she lives for a good mystery novel. She even approves of the author’s website (except for the W-word: Welcome, but let’s not go there. This is my blog, okay?)
Anyway, I have a lot to be thankful for. My dog beds. My dog walks. Food. Treats. The Dog Lounge for daycare. My raving fans all over Seattle. Our wonderful bus system, Seattle Metro, where I get to ride on my mom’s lap and get tons of attention from total strangers.