While Mom's Away
27/03/10 10:26 Filed in: Pawsonal
Last night we went in the wheeled rolling room to
that place where metal birds come and go. Mom and Dad
went into the building but only Dad came back. He
told me that Mom's gone home to visit her mom and dad
and also to see her litter mates and their own
litters of youngens.
I guess that means it's just me and Dad for a while.
I miss my Mom. I don't know when she is coming home (Dad says we'll have to sleep through 12 darknesses before we see her again) but I keep thinking maybe, just maybe, if I search the house hard enough, I'll find her. So I look and I look and I look. No luck so far.
Meanwhile, this morning I took my Dad for a long walk in the place with the red dirt and the many trees. The shining ball of fire was smiling down at us from the great blue but it was still very cold. I don't mind the cold: when it's cold I feel like I can run forever. And that's what I did. Dad threw my bright orange balls over and over again and I ran so fast to get them.
One time this very big brown four-legger took one of my orange balls and wouldn't give it back. That wasn't so nice. But he was bigger than me so I wasn't going to argue. Finally, my Dad managed to convince him to give it back and all was well.
My Dad marvels at how well I can find the little orange balls. One time he threw one and it bounced off a stick and went deep into the trees. At first I couldn't find it and my Dad even had to push his way through the trees to help. We looked and looked and looked and I sniffed and sniffed and sniffed. I was just beginning to lose hope when, suddenly, there it was whispering on the breeze: the scent of the orange ball. I tracked it back through the branches and followed it into a little hollow and then, there was the ball, nestled among the branches at the bottom of a hole.
I couldn't get my nose far enough through the branches to dig it out but Dad came along and stuck his sticky paw down and got it! Hoorray. We're quite a team. Me with my nose and him with his fingers.
Now we're back home and I'm dictating this blog. Dad says, if we write about our day every morning, my Mom will be able to read it each day and know what we've been up to. It's not as good as having her here but at least she'll know I'm thinking about her.
I guess that means it's just me and Dad for a while.
I miss my Mom. I don't know when she is coming home (Dad says we'll have to sleep through 12 darknesses before we see her again) but I keep thinking maybe, just maybe, if I search the house hard enough, I'll find her. So I look and I look and I look. No luck so far.
Meanwhile, this morning I took my Dad for a long walk in the place with the red dirt and the many trees. The shining ball of fire was smiling down at us from the great blue but it was still very cold. I don't mind the cold: when it's cold I feel like I can run forever. And that's what I did. Dad threw my bright orange balls over and over again and I ran so fast to get them.
One time this very big brown four-legger took one of my orange balls and wouldn't give it back. That wasn't so nice. But he was bigger than me so I wasn't going to argue. Finally, my Dad managed to convince him to give it back and all was well.
My Dad marvels at how well I can find the little orange balls. One time he threw one and it bounced off a stick and went deep into the trees. At first I couldn't find it and my Dad even had to push his way through the trees to help. We looked and looked and looked and I sniffed and sniffed and sniffed. I was just beginning to lose hope when, suddenly, there it was whispering on the breeze: the scent of the orange ball. I tracked it back through the branches and followed it into a little hollow and then, there was the ball, nestled among the branches at the bottom of a hole.
I couldn't get my nose far enough through the branches to dig it out but Dad came along and stuck his sticky paw down and got it! Hoorray. We're quite a team. Me with my nose and him with his fingers.
Now we're back home and I'm dictating this blog. Dad says, if we write about our day every morning, my Mom will be able to read it each day and know what we've been up to. It's not as good as having her here but at least she'll know I'm thinking about her.