When I get my life back from being a dog nanny in the next month or so I plan to do something. I don’t know what I will do but it will be something nice. Maybe a little drive to an antique store or to town to see a friend or maybe even to see a matinee at my favourite theatre in Stratford. Such freedom will be mine. Only a month or so to go.
The bulldog is now over a year old and weighs sixty five pounds. She is muscular, like Arnold. Bulldog snorts at me when I say her name, Penny and flips her head as if to say”you are not the boss of me”. Despite much more suitable accommodation,she sits ( like a huge Winnie- The- Pooh) in the front bay window, sleeps in the bay window and catches the occasional fly there in the bay window. The window has slobbers on it. I’m at the point where I still care that there are slobbers on it but not quite enough to deal with it. I will deal with it in turn. Dog hair isn’t the only thing I have to clean up, I’m just sayin’.
It is the quiet time of night and bulldog is sleeping in her crate. She has a soft blanket in there but has ripped it up a bit. Her crate pad was chewed last week so it got tossed out. As I pick up her toy lion and rhino, rope, rubber tire and chew bones for the night I try to make things as tidy as I can so that I won’t trip over things.
Late night television and off peak laundry (off peak means a cheaper electricity rate) keep me occupied until I can find the poor old cat and bring her in for the night. She hates the dog and stays outside as long as possible. At this point, she just sleeps in the driveway, socializes with the neighbours walking by and eats out of a cardboard box that I have rigged up to try to keep her food fresh. She has given up her bay window, her soft blanket, her food dish and her significant person since the dog arrived.
It’s been a long three weeks. Only four or five weeks to go. It better be ….I’m just sayin’.