Camp Dan

My good friend from high school, her awesome hubby and their super-cool dog moved to town about 2 years ago. It's been great - it's always nice to have someone around that knows you and likes you anyway AND will ditch work for a pedicure with minimal arm-twisting.

And one of the innumerable perks is dogsitting. We have no dog at this point, the training and the grad school and the work schedules conspiring against the fair treatment of a creature without opposable thumbs and a need to poop outside. So, like Club Med, we serve as an occassional resort for a particular four-legged friend. Petey comes to Camp Dan, pees all over the great state of Maryland, chases the deer and drools on all the neighborhood kids. BIG fun, I tell you!

So hubby and I are babysitting Petey, a newfoundland mix. Every other time that Petey has come to Camp Dan, he's been (pardon the pun) Top Dog. BUT kitty has since claimed the house, all property and the denizens that dwell therein. And Petey is pissed. Lucky wants to be downstairs with his humans, but everytime he sneaks down the dog barks and chases him halfway up the stairs.

But dear Petey is an older gentleman, and is wearying of walking the beat. And everytime he gets comfy, Lucky sneaks downstairs, gets a tad too close, and startles the bejeezus out of the dog. Toss in thunderstorms [what animal DOESN'T love a good booming storm?!] It is melodrama a la Charlie Chaplin.

(Our amusement is probably directly related to how lame we are and how much we need to get out of the house. I'm totally okay with that.)

Hope you all are having a relaxing night.


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