Y’all…
it’s official.
They have lost their doggone minds.
Both. Of. Them. Completely.
I heard them talking yesterday
about leaving the lake house
and going back to the city house.
Excuse me??
I was having an excellent time at the lake house.
The weather was nice.
The birds were active.
The squirrels were bold.
(A mistake on their part.)
I had a full schedule.
As usual…
nobody asked me.
Then I watched them carry out
a whole bunch of stuff
and load it into the truck.
Seemed like a bad idea.
I mean, we are supposed to be moving
TO the lake house.
Not… practicing leaving it.
Mama and I drove back in the car.
Daddy drove the truck.
He got there first.
Which is not surprising.
Mama is a slower driver.
Not bad…
just… deeply committed to taking her time.
We walk in the house
and Daddy says:
“We have to go back.”
Mama and I just stared at him
with wide open eyes.
(I taught her that look. She’s improving.)
Before either of us could respond,
he says:
“I left my wallet at the lake house… I think.”
Sir ???
We just got here.
Mama and I looked at each other.
I don’t know exactly what Mama was thinking,
but I’m fairly certain
it involved some words
I do not use.
Because,
I am a very good girl.
After a long discussion
(where I was, once again, not consulted),
they decided:
We would stay the night
and go back in the morning.
Daddy said we had to leave early
because of spring break.
Spring break.
You know who’s not on spring break?
Me.
I’m on “get in the car, Sassy.”
Mama did not seem nearly as concerned
about spring break
as she was about her sanity.
Next thing I know,
it is not even light outside
and I am being loaded into the car.
Again.
Let me explain something:
It is a long, long, long ride
for a dog.
And since Mama had to drive,
we took her car.
Which means—
Daddy sat in my seat.
My seat.
Without discussion.
Without permission.
I was moved
to the back seat.
The unacceptable seat.
The seat where you cannot see out properly.
The seat of poor life decisions.
After a very long time,
we got back to the lake.
Mama let me out
to “handle my business.”
Which I did.
Efficiently.
Like a professional.
We went upstairs,
went inside…
and then…
we were there
for about five minutes.
Five. Minutes.
I hadn’t even finished
smushing down my bed.
(Another thing humans do wrong—
they just sit down
without preparing the spot first.
It’s chaos.)
Daddy found his wallet.
In the clothes hamper.
In the pocket of his pants.
…This is exactly why
dogs do not wear pants.
Or fully trust people who do.
Then we went
right back downstairs,
right back into the car.
Mama is now in my seat.
I am once again
in the terrible back seat.
For another
long, long, long ride.
I did not ask
to participate in this adventure.
I could have stayed home
on my section of the sectional.
In peace.
In dignity.
But no.
Nobody asked me.
They never do.
And that is exactly how I know…
they have lost their doggone minds.
🐾 Sassy the Wonderdog
Third Act With Pattie 