We have a 2 year old Cocker-Spaniel named Mojo. He certainly lives up to his name. I have a ritual every week day. I go home for lunch. This isn't to say that I don't enjoy going home for lunch. I would much prefer going home and eating leftovers or even something plucked from the freezer than spending my lunch hour waiting in line with the crowd at the BX or driving to a drive-thru off base or a nicer restaurant and eating enough for two. It also gives me some time away from the office for a break. Depending on his day, my man will sometimes go home with me. Here is the way it works:
I leave work. (I pick the man up after leaving work if he goes with.) I drive the 12 miles to my house. I go in and am greeted by 2 silly pups, jumping, wagging their tales, and excited and happy to see me. I open the back door and let the black Lab out. She does her business. Mojo, on the other hand, dances around, wags his tail some more, jumps some more, and does his best imitation of a pirate. ARRRRGGGHHH! (Did I mention he is VERY sassy when he has been left alone?) I ask them if they are ready for lunch. They dance around some more, wagging their tails all over the place. Then I head off to the fridge where I take my lunch out. AND their lunch. Oh yes, I fix them lunch every day. It is usally sliced up hot dogs, but occasionally extra left overs. Sliced, yep. Otherwise there been instances of hot dogs not staying where they need to be. Anyway....I eat my lunch, they eat their lunch, and FINALLY, Mojo is ready to go outside and do his business, but ONLY after all of my lunch is gone and he realizes he won't be getting any more.
My husband is wrong. I am trainable.
1 comment:
LOL You crack me up.
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