Mom is sick, and hasn’t left her bed for days.  That leaves just Dad to take care of us.  At first it was a puppy paradise!  We spent the first morning digging for treasure under the back steps, tracking muddy paw prints throughout the house, and wrestling with reckless abandon in the living room.  Finally we could live as dogs should!  But as the day wore on, I couldn’t help but notice things weren’t going well.  Let’s just say I’m a creature of habit, and I get a bit anxious when my routine isn’t as it should be.  What doesn’t Dad understand about dinner being served promptly at 5 PM?!  5:30 is totally unacceptable!

Not wanting to upset Asa, I tried to keep my cool.  But sadly that meant the poor little guy was the first to crack under pressure.  Missing his afternoon walk and romp in the yard, Asa hit his breaking point last night.  That’s when he lost it and started running laps around the kitchen table.  Ok, I have to admit it was funny to watch because he was doing the Scooby Doo run where all four legs were moving without making any progress.  His tantrum culminated in knocking over the full water bowl, sliding head first into a cabinet, and then taking out all his rage by barking at a harmless bottle of olive oil that has been on the counter for months.

Although I wanted to join him in his angry rant, I tried my best to shoulder the brunt of the stress, and set a good example for Asa.  The following morning after checking Mom’s nose and finding it was still not cold and wet, I joined Asa’s barking to make sure Dad woke up on time so our routine would be somewhat normal.  It wasn’t.  But I tried not to let on to Asa that it was bothering me.  Next thing I knew, Dad was loading me in the car because I had my annual vet check up.  Finally!  Someone I could talk to who would understand my plight, and perhaps cure Mom!  But alas before I could see the vet, all the stress that had been building up in me finally burst while we were still in the waiting room.  There I was spinning around on my side like Curly from the Three Stooges, flailing about like an idiot in the middle of the waiting room for all to see!  Worst yet, everyone laughed at me and called me a silly puppy!  How embarrassing!  I’m not a puppy!  I am a mature dog with a lot of responsibilities!  Speaking of which, I hear Mom is feeling better and will be coming downstairs soon.  I better go try to clean up those muddy paw prints on the walls.  If Mom sees them, she may retreat back upstairs and never come down again!