I was resting comfortably on my “Mrs. Dog” chair, curled up in my usual way, when I spotted it, the front door was ajar. I can always count on my humans to occasionally forget to close that door, especially the younger ones. I arose from my short “dog” nap (I know the term is cat nap, but I refuse to call it that), then I did my fancy stretch off of the chair, where my hind legs stay on the chair while my long front paws stretch out onto the floor, with my head slightly raised and pointed ever so regally. My breed is from England; therefore I must act accordingly, with style and grace of course. Once my fancy stretch had completed and I was fully stable on all four paws, I looked around to see if anyone noticed the open door. Ah, as luck would have it, my humans were not in the room. I then sauntered over to the door, not darting as I would have when I was just a wee pup. I have matured immensely over the years, but I still can’t resist a little adventure when given the opportunity. I finally raised my paw and placed it on the door and gave it a good shove, and advanced out onto my front porch but not without some trepidation. I stopped suddenly before gliding down the four steps, looked around again, thinking to myself, am I really free to roam? The thought of freedom terrified me, but at the same time made me feel so elated. I could explore the neighborhood meeting new people, dogs, cats and all other species, just the thought of it was exhilarating.
I ran like the wind down my street, stopping on occasion to smell the flowers, eat some grass, poop and pee to mark my travels. And no, I did not clean up after myself, I don’t have thumbs. That is one of the tasks my humans are supposed to do for me. As I reached the end of my street, I looked over at the Italian market on the corner and noticed the door was open, alas, another opportunity awaits me. This time I darted across the street, with absolutely no trepidation. I raced into the market, wagging my tail intensely, knocking a few items to the floor. I was trying to score some treats, or anything remotely edible. Just as I was making my way around the aisle, this very large dark haired woman started screaming at me in Italian, and they were not very pleasant words. I’m no genius but I got the message loud and clear that I wasn't supposed to be there, so I quickly skirted out the door before causing any more trouble. Whew, that was fun, but a little stressful. Now where should I go?
I started to wander down the street, when I saw a nice family going into their home, leaving their door wide open. I ran in behind them to say hello, when suddenly this young girl let out a blood curdling scream, I think she thought I was trying to attack. I was just trying to give her a proper greeting, well maybe a big hug and sloppy kiss is not considered proper among the general population. Next thing I know, there were a few men chasing after me, yelling in Spanish. I know what you are thinking, how am I such a linguist? Well, I do have cable so I watch a lot of International Films with subtitles. I can’t believe the trouble I kept getting in, and the day wasn't over yet.
I decided to take a little run down to Main Street, there’s usually plenty of action going on downtown. While I was downtown, I helped an old lady get across the street, and in return she was so kind to me. She gently patted my head and told me I was a good dog. That made me smile and then I licked her hand profusely to say thank you. Afterwards, I saw the train pull up to the station so I ran across the street to check out the situation. I saw that the door to the train was open and of course I tried to get on board. Whenever I see an open door, I assume it's open for me and I always have to go for it. This very important looking man stopped me before I could get on the train. He held my collar firmly while some nice woman standing on the platform called the phone number on my tag. My owner, Suzanne came to claim me immediately. This woman let me wait in her beautiful white Mercedes SUV. I was extremely filthy and reeked to the high heavens, so that was so kind of her to let me wait in her car. I know I am a dog, but I can’t stand my own stench at times.
When I finally arrived home with my owner Suzanne (aka Grand mom...by the way, it’s not what she wants to be called, it was my owner Bob’s idea), I was so “dog” tired, I could hardly wait to just plop down on the cool floor and pass out. But first I had to be hosed down, hate that ordeal. I love swimming, but hate to be squirted with water. I do love to drink the hose water, now that’s a good time. After I was rinsed and dried, I immediately plopped onto the floor, dead asleep and most likely snoring within seconds. As I lay sleeping I had a very bizarre dream that I was on a long train ride, and on this jaunt, I met some really interesting people. I heard some amazing stories, some really sad but many were quite comical. I awoke from my nap, feeling so ecstatic; the dream seemed so strangely real. Did I actually ride that train? I paced around the living room for several moments, and then decided to jump up on the window sill, my favorite perch for the day. As I laid my head down, I sighed profoundly, and pondered on my next journey. I once heard a great quote, written by that very wise author / poet, Ralph Waldo Emerson “life is a journey not a destination”. That is how I live my life every day, not worrying about the destination, just enjoying the ride, with my head hanging out the window to feel the wind in my face. It really is all about the Journey.
