She goes from window to
window looking to see where Blondie is. I can feel her tension. The mystery is
why she worries. Blondie has spent five years living on the street and only almost
one living with her. She prepares dinner, when not watching for the sata with
the identity crisis. I rest on the sofa considering Blondie’s problem. It is a
problem when you have a home with people who love you, and you think you should
be out on the street barking at cars in honor of your dead sato friend Stormy. She’s
right, Blondie is one messed up critter.
Whatever she’s cooking
smells good. My right eye opens just as a morsel falls to the floor. I’m on it
before the cat knows what happened. That was good. Her cooking isn’t bad. I don’t
care what they say. She rushed out the door to look for Blondie while I licked
the floor. So suddenly there I am with a powerful urge to pee. I stayed out all
last night just so I wouldn’t pee in the house. I’m back in for five minutes,
she gives me a tasty bite and then she’s not there when I need to pee. I’ve got
to go and, no, she’s not here for me. She’s looking to see what Blondie is
doing. That’s just great.
Quickly I dash into the
office behind the massage table. Poppy’s already gotten his treatment for the
day. She won’t be in there until tomorrow. Oh, that feels better. Maybe she won’t
know. The door opens. She goes to stir her pot, so I am back on the sofa, when
she turns to look at me. My face and ears just fall when she looks at me. At
first it seemed like she didn’t notice, but when she set her spoon down and
walked toward the office I knew.
I give her the patented,
Chi-ping, I know I did wrong, but I’m a poor little girl look. She smiled. It
looked like I was home free, when she picked me up and carried me to the door.
I still maintain that it was not my fault.
Blondie the fat house pet
is making a fool of herself in the street barking at cars. Blondie’s been doing
that a lot lately. We both have been thinking about Stormy since we’ve been
back. Stormy taught us all we know about being street dogs. He was a great
street dog. We miss him, but Blondie doing this chasing cars thing like him
doesn’t make sense. He tried to teach her how to chase cars, but she never
could get it. She never understood why he did it until the day one killed him.
She hates the truck that ran him over. She is starting to hate cars.
Better to run in the woods
chasing lizards, so we’re off. Enjoy your day. Chi-Ping
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