Yes. That was a scream. No. Not out of joy or ecstasy one feels when say, a long lost bone is liberated from underneath the daisies or a discovery that one's home has been magically constructed from Milk Bone dog biscuits.
It was terror.
I should have known what with all the bustling about and the snotty way they fobbed me out onto the deck all day "go get some sun Zoe" "Go eat the potted plants and dig up the new herbs Zoe" Hmmm... that last one may have been of my own creation.
I digress.
So tonight, after vittlage and a suspiciously pleasant trot around the block I was informed that I would be packed in with the pots and blankets for a trip to the Southwest to pick up someone named Casita. Don't think it did not cross my mind to dash off an emergency email to INS. It turns out she is an it. Yet another thing to wheel me around in. Telling me that it would protect me from raccoons attacking me at night while at camp did soften the blow.
I decided to try to negotiate my staying home to hold down the fort. Why... I could limit my play to the office, seek entertainment via the cartoon network (and not by eating the ultrasuede couch or chewing thru speaker wire) and promise to not only poop in the toilet, but also flush and saniwipe after each... visit. Which is a damn site better than they do. Naturally their standard parry of "we'll see". I retreat to my hopeful position of not being able to fit in the back of the auto. Zoe or the smokey joe? Say Zoe... that idea of you staying in the office... Sigh. If they sound desperate I am going to ask for a keg and a bag of pretzles. They may be able to take down W, but I can swallow a shank bone whole. No prob. Plus I love the salt.
I will keep you posted.
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