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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