Walkies

I'm a cat person. I've always had cats, I like cats and cats are my best friends. They treat me right: with pure, un- hypocritical distain. I can live with that.

Dogs, not so much. All the slobbering, eating out of the litter box, licking whatever off the floor. No thanks, Mr. Dog.

Well, then, we ended up boarding a dog for a couple of weeks. Big dog. Half blue healer, half German shepherd. Big, nice, smart, loving, intelligent with big brown eyes and gentle and smart and nice effing dog.

Dog.

I try to dislike this dog.

Fail.

Fortunately, I'm not require to take the dog on walks because he loves another who does take him on walks. Great. Grand! No walkies for me.

Until today when She Who Takes the Dog on Walkie is not available.

"Hey, I'm tied up at work. Remember work? That thing that pays the bills and your wine allowance? Well, I'm tied up making even more money to support your habits and I need you to take the Dog for a Walk. No whining, just do it or no wining for you if you get my drift."

Drift gotten. Leash in hand I asked the Dog if he wanted to go for walkies and got trampled, and licked to oblivion. I guess that's a "yes."

Turns out that walkies are a lot of fun! We went over hill and under dale, chased squirrels and birds and golfers and had a great time. We even scared a little poodle with a hearty "Woof! Woof!" and I had to console the owner with an offer of a poolside hot oil massage only to learn that her calendar was booked until 2021. I mean, that's one organized poodle owner to have a calendar booked that far in advance.

Anyway, we got home safe and sound, the dog dived into his food and I headed off to take a nap only to dream about running a pool service company dealing with clogged skimmers.

A good day, I would say. Walkies tomorrow? You bet!