So, here’s the deal about coming home to South Carolina. We’ve been gone so long it’s either like we’ve never been away or we’re not REALLY back, if you know what I mean. Because I’m seeing not one sign of a Welcome Home party around here. Not one sign, not one sign, not one sign. As a matter of fact, I found Halloween decorations on the front porch instead of Welcome Home, Red – We Missed You signs. In the kitchen I see bags and bags of Halloween candy, but where’s the bag of cookies for moi, I ask you? Okay, let’s get this straight. Unless I’m being a bit too prickly, I’m thinking Halloween outranks Red’s Homecoming. Very distressing and disappointing, to say the least. My, how times have changed.
And speaking of prickly, the first thing I had to do when I came home was remind everyone of who’s boss. I’m talking about establishing my proper place as Leader of the Pack, for God’s sake. As soon as I poked my paws in the front door, here they all came barking and carrying on like they were Some Bad Dogs. Ollie with his big old grey bearded self with No Teeth that count. Hey, I should have gotten him a red t-shirt like the one I saw in Conroe: Got Teeth! Heh, heh. He’s so dumb he probably wouldn’t get it. Then there’s Chelsea, the big black Lab with the Loud Bark that’s meaningless. Hmmm…looks like somebody has put on a pound or two or ten since I’ve been gone, but who’s counting? She eats all the time anyway. You can’t trust the girl around food, let me tell you. Step away from my food bowl, Missy! Grrrrrrrr…..Grrrrrrrrrrr….Red is in the house.
Of course, I have to say that Annie is pretty glad to see me, but she’s been engaging in her obsessive compulsive licking while I was gone, and she’s got a paw that looks like raw meat. Naturally, Slow gets all in a snit and starts giving her pills, putting ointment on it and making sure she keeps that humiliating CONE on her head. Too bad for you, Annie. I myself have been forced to wear a CONE or two in my day, and I hated it. Hated it. Hated it. Hated it. And I have to add that Annie’s age seems to be catching up with her. We’re talking Memory Care Unit problemos. She may need a room next to Grandmother Selma before long. Yikes! Old age is hell unless you are young at heart. That’s what I am. Young at heart. Zippity-doo-dah is a personal mantra calling forth my own fountain of youth.
And Pretty? I must admit to a bit of a surprise that Pretty has been very involved in Important Activities since I’ve been home. It’s almost as if she has a LIFE here without me. Well, I can’t fault her for that. Plus, she has her book club meeting tonight and has been frantically trying to read the book she bought at the last minute. At least, she understands the importance of my nighttime pets and hugs and kisses, so I can’t really complain too much. And who knows? The signs may be here this weekend!
Well, at least Mary will be happy to see me today. I LOVE Mary at the Fluff ‘N Puff Parlor. She takes great care of my grooming necessities, and I know she won’t be calling Slow to ask any dumb questions like that other woman did in Texas. Remember her? “Do you want him to be cut like a Welsh terrier?”, my ass. Nosirree, my Mary would never say something like that. She loves me as much as I love her. I’ve never taken it personally when my crate is the only one she throws a towel over to cover while I’m there. That’s just her little way of letting me know I’m special.
Look at that, will you? I see Ollie and Chelsea have raced out to the truck to be First in the Truck. They make me sick. Sigh. I have to start fighting for every little piece of glory again.
Welcome Home, Red.