Here is Dog sitting on her favourite poof watching me write about her. She's a clever little sausage.
2 months is a pretty long time to be away.
Just to make sure that the kids didn't forget me, I Skyped 'em every Tuesday whether they wanted me to or not. I sat with my cuppa and they had just finished their dinner and mostly Zig was sparkling shower fresh and we'd chat about the usual shit that families carry on with.
I sent them postcards every week and sometimes sent them little packages, all in a bid to remind that I was still around, even if not very close. They had known for a year in advance that I would be away so had plenty of time to get used to the idea, or celebrate depending on perspective, and they are people so they could definitely understand and chat about understanding, and could hear and appreciate it when I said, 'I'll be back'
Dog on the other hand had no clue.
Oh she knows that those bloody suitcases are not good. She gets all flighty and skittish when they are dragged out. It's like she can count 'em up. If there's only one then that's OK cos it means only one of us is going. Of course she is hoping that I am the one staying cos I am her favourite - well this is my story afterall - what else am I gonna say. But if there are so many bags that the 2 spare rooms are covered in packing then she goes all a bit mad.
Not shitty pissed off mad. She goes out of her way to be a sweetheart, figuring perhaps that if she is lovely we won't be able to bear to leave her behind and so we'll pop her into one of those bags.
If we are driving away and taking her too, she relaxes as soon as her bed is brought downstairs and she sees me packing up her little treats. She really doesn't like to be left behind.
This time however, the 2 Js moved bags in on the day we were going. She didn't know what the hell was going on. Bag in, bags out, shake 'em all about?
Off we trotted to have dinner with the Kids so they would remember us and she stood and watched us go and I had a little tear, hoping that all would be well and that she would be loved but not so much as she wouldn't want to see us come back.
The 2 Js did love her, and so did their Grandies. They took her everywhere. She became part of their furniture. They sent us photos and little stories of how she was getting on. Yep the 2 Js seemed to know that this would ease my somewhat guilty conscious.
Dog must have wondered what was going on, on Wednesday, when the 2 Js started PACKING. There were those bloody bags again. They had packed up and moved everything out and then one of the Js hopped into Steve's car and disappeared - he was picking us up from the train station which was above and beyond, but that is how they rolled. She must have thought that was odd.
When we arrived home she ran at us like a maniac. Not a second's hesitation of tail up, bum out, cat face, pissed off, where the fuck have you been, now I am gonna shit in your shoes. It was just sheer joy that we were home. She all but knocked me down. I sat on the floor with her and she snuggled in. There was such joy, from her and us.
She's not letting me get too far outta sight. Sitting all over me as soon as I am still.
Do you like the way I have colour co-ordinated my dress with Dog?
This is Dog's first selfie. Ain't she lovely?
I haven't told her that I have to go out today to get some groceries. I am hoping that she knows somewhere in her doggie brain that I will always come back, but how do we know what they know?