Day Caper

Since I try to avoid posting when it basically translates into whining, I have not been posting much lately. Not that life is terrible, because it certainly isn't. I have two legs. They are handy and that's good.

I was talking with a close friend of mine recently, who's family lives on the same block as mine and we were lamenting about the condition of our families; broken ankles, kidney stones, colds, ear infections, seizure disorders; it just seems to be all around us. And now, Oliver appears to be having his yearly allotted eye ulcer. I don't have the money to fix it really - I wonder if super glue is out of the question? Oh, wait, I'd have to find the super glue in the carriage house full of boxes which used to be my apartment.

On Saturday, Dad and I went on a little trip to the Cape. I think it's an excuse really, for him to go the Bourne's very thorough dump. He likes it. It's fun. You show-up there with a van busting at it's soldered points with cardboard, catalogs, Styrofoam and more and you leave with nothing. It's very therapeutic, really. And I like a day to myself with Papa Bear.

There's always the car dance, of course. With the dogs. They must come with us. There is one seat in the back for them to share and whatever side Oliver's on, Bootsie MUST be there too. Like, right where YOU are, Oliver! RIGHT THERE! At first, this led to Oliver teetering on the edge of the seat while Bootsie leaned on him in an effort to herd him from his spot because actually, it's her spot, don't you know?

When we made our first stop for a breakfast for the road, I moved the dogs so Oliver was on the side of the seat which abuts the car door. This way, Bootsie could take all the room she wanted and not shove him off the seat. But sure enough, Oliver's view out the window was better than what Bootsie had, so she shoved and shoved until Oliver was smashed-up against the window and finally, he somehow climbed over her to go back to where he started. Of course, he was laying down on the seat at this point and lowering your center of gravity clearly makes shoving you less interesting to Bootsie because she left him alone.

We made a stop at Scott's End, too, just to check on things. The minute we made the turn onto Wing's Neck Trust, Bootsie started to cry. Whimper. With excitement of where we were going. They always know. We opened the van doors and they shot out of the van like it was on fire. Each one in a different direction. They love it there. The room to run and of course, an ocean for Bootsie to jump into a day after she's been groomed. Because really, what's the point of being groomed if you can't completely ruin it with some salty water and sand fleas the very next day?

they played nice on the ride home, too tired to shove each other around.