What happened was this: Mike and Jeannie went to a banquet, and M decided to go as Braveheart. They left me alone, even though I know they could hear and see me crying in the front window as they backed the car out. (Hello-o! I still have separation anxiety. Is anybody listening? Is this thing on?) The only thing that got them out of the doghouse when they came home three hours later is that they brought me some leftover steak.
But I digress. Anyway, the plan as I understand it was that when they got home, M would change out of his tartan threads and into the usual jeans and tee shirt, and then take me for my belated evening stroll. What he didn't count on is that I had to pee like the proverbial greyhound (no offense to my skinny cousins!) and couldn't wait. My back teeth were floating! So out we went, and if it had been daytime instead of pitch-black dark, here is what the neighbors would have seen. (The fact that we reenacted it for the camera this afternoon suggests that M wouldn't have been all that self-conscious anyway.)
I have to admit, I rather like the Wild Highlander look. I used to be pretty wild myself.
Incidentally, anyone who wants to see what my man wears under that kilt will have to go through me!
2 comments:
Who is that handsome man who got separated from his parade? And where'd he get that sweet horse . . . I mean dog?
Remarkable story of man and his best friend. Glad to hear there are compassionate people who care about the wellbeing of an animal that was so obviously someones pet.
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