Monday, 13 February 2017
Ah, the day before Valentine’s Day. I gotta be getting close to a birthday soon. That’s the only bummer about starting life out on the road and getting scooped up by the Po-po. There’s no record of my birthday. Mom and Dad say I’m about a year old now and Dad was campaigning for Valentine’s Day to be my “birthday.”
I’m not wild about that being my birthday. Sure, I’m a lover and all, but I preferred his second choice, St. Patrick’s Day. I love a good party and with a name like Dillon, it seems a perfect fit. Besides, I like green too.
Today threw me off a bit. Mom usually does her shopping and stuff in the middle of the week, but this morning, she was buzzing around with a purpose. Next thing I know, Micky and I are getting chucked into our crates and she was off. Wonder where she went.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up from a nice cozy nap to the sound of the door opening. Cool, I got a great nap and then Mom came home. Except it wasn’t Mom, it was Dad. What the heck? How long was I out and where was Mom? I tried to take a look around the house to see if Mom was hiding, but Dad wasn’t having it. I guess someone clued him in on the rules. Rule number one, “Dillon goes outside to pee as soon as he comes out of his crate.” Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can’t wait until I’m off the watchlist.
Anyway, once I did get to run around the house, I couldn’t find Mom. Where was she? This was very strange. Dogs live by routines and this was not part of the routine. Write this down. Dad goes to work in the morning and Mom may or may not go somewhere during the day, but Mom always comes home before Dad. Always!
Oh well, I guess I can get over this little infraction of the routine as long as they have a big party on my “birthday” with all my friends.