Saoirse is rapidly becoming a teenager. She is easily bored, and it's making her needy. Like the Rum Tum Tugger, she is always on the wrong side of every door. It doesn't matter whether she has just been let through. If she's in and one of the other dogs or her papa are outside, she loses her mind wanting to be where they are. When she is left unsupervised, she has hit the destructive phase. She has eaten half the foam out of Elsa's bed, and she is systematically pulling up our raspberries and roses. In fact, that boogerhead got a raspberry cane wedged in her mouth. It bridged the roof of her mouth, from molar to molar, way in the back. If she didn't have a habit of lying across my lap, looking at me upside down, grinning, I might never have looked so far in her mouth. I couldn't pry it loose, and had to get the Mr to do it.
I promised her all day we would go somewhere, like wandering around Lowe's and maybe to a pet store for crickets. I never did go. So after dark, when she was throwing herself dramatically on the bed and huffing (like I said, teenager), I put on a hoodie and slippers, and grabbed her harness. It was too late to take care of normal errands (good thing, considering how I was dressed) so we just drove around with the window open, so I could see who still has Christmas lights up (lots of people), and she could sniff around. We started with McDonald's for fries and a coke, and we split the food and chatted for half an hour, looping through neighborhoods. It didn't burn off as much of her energy as training classes, but it was better than nothing.
Everybody mangles songs to personalize them for their pets, right? Not just me? Saoirse might just have "her" song now. As I was leaving McDonald's, shoving food into the face hole of my puppy whose bones have grown so fast they've left her no calories for a drop of body fat, I started singing. "French fries... in my doggy makes me happy..." Sorry, John Denver. The song is ours now.
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