Mom’s ignoring me. Something about some dumb web page rolling out. FindAQuiltTeacher.com. Who cares. If it was FindAYummyTreat.com I’d be interested. But it isn’t. So I’m not.
I’m not supposed to be on the couch, unless I’m invited up. I wasn’t. But I am anyway. I’m moping.
When Mom leaves on a teaching trip, first I retrieve her socks out of the suitcase and bring them to her. Very helpful; slightly damp. Then I mope. She tells me to be a good dog and leaves anyway.
Dad and I mope together.
Mom says the new web site will help teachers and shops and quilt guilds get together better. Something about everything in once place, printing off information for a 3-ring binder. Don’t my toes look nice? Mom trims my toe hairs a lot. And my nails. And she brushes me real good. Except when she’s working on dumb web pages. She’s still typing. Who needs quilt teachers anyway?! I think they should all stay home with their dogs.
I bark in my sleep. You can do it; it’s fun. Close your jowls really tight and bark in a high pitch yelp. See your cheeks puff out. Sounds like a helium bark. I sometimes run when I sleep. Mom says my paws twitch. Mom jiggles me to wake me up if I do that at night ’cause it wakes up Dad.
Mom’s still typing. She says lots of teachers are starting to sign up to be on the page and she has to get the part ready for the quilt guilds and shops to join too. She says that will be tomorrow. Big deal. I just fetched her glove. She wasn’t impressed. She couldn’t type if she wore the glove. Sigh. Mope.
I usually lay at Mom’s feet under her desk. If I roll just right I can unplug her keyboard and then