***WARNING***
Mildly NSFW girl-on-girl action ahead.
See? Just be happy I didn’t call them hot bitches. On top is Itchy, Victoria’s Italian Greyhound. On the bottom is Zoe, Robin’s Italian Greyhound.
Saturday morning Robin took the big step of entrusting me with his dog. Zoe and I left him at home and went off into the big, wide world for our doggie playdate. First stop was Jeremy’s house, to pick up Jeremy and Jacques, his Chihuahua. The four of us tried to hit the Farmer’s Market in style for some falafel, but were quickly hustled out of there by an employee pointing out the “No Dogs” signs. My SUV was quickly transformed into Dog-catraz, as we put Zoe, Jacques and Itchy in the back. My car has never been so full of cute before.
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Because we were tired and I wasn't sure if I was going to see Robin that night, I took Zoe back to my house. After one hiss-and-swat attack, Nibbles seemed to call a truce with Zoe. In fact, I spent part of the afternoon in bed with the dog on one side of me and the cat on the other. The terms of their peace treaty did not include being in close proximity to each other.
On my way to a party that night, I dropped Zoe off in Ester. This is the part where I should say that Zoe was happy to be home. It would certainly make Robin feel better. But she did not want me to go. Her little whines at the window as I walked away made that abundantly clear.
And the rest of the night? Rock Star party, barbecue, hitting the Marlin for the Good Daze/Paper Scissors show. I danced for hours in brand new heels. They are broken in, as are my feet. It made me remember how much I miss going out. I need to start doing that again.
2 comments:
When a dog's social life is better than mine, it makes me sad. I'm going for the tissue now.
Mary with a dog, any dog......snort...giggle...roll on the floor with laughter.
North Franklin
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