Greenport then Home

This morning began day four in my new house out east and let me tell you, it is not a place where you’re allowed the luxury of sleeping late. Take yesterday morning for instance. I was minding my own business, sleeping on my pillow in Sister’s room, when a sudden rapping at the door woke me up. Well, I started barking like a maniac (Sister who was sound asleep and didn’t hear the knocking jumped about ten feet when I started barking) and ran to the front door wanting to make sure that whoever was at the door knew I was there and ready to be petted (I consider it a reasonable toll for entering the house). It turned out that the people at the door were there to work on the oil burner and not to pet me (which is insulting, but I get it), but really, was it totally necessary for them to show up at 8:00 in the morning? This morning was very much the same. There I was, sleeping on Sister’s bed—trying to get her to relinquish the rest of the bed to me (what can I say, I like to stretch out)—when I heard a knocking on the bedroom door. I bounced up, jumped to the ground, skidded on the tile floor, and began barking like mad at the door (Sister, meanwhile, rolled over, muttered something very unkind under her breath, and covered her head with a pillow). It turns out it was Ma—the fence guy was coming soon and she wanted to make sure I had the opportunity to have my breakfast and go out before he came. Obviously, no one respects my beauty sleep!

After the fence guy (I barked at him), then the sofa delivery men (I barked at them), and then the guy who was taking the old sofa away (I barked at him too), all came and left (none of them took the time to pet me—obviously you can’t hire good help anymore), Ma, Pa, and Sister told me we were all going to take a ride in the car and visit the town of Greenport.

When we got out of the car I was super excited; so many smells, so many people, so many dogs! I did my best to sniff everything, but Pa kept insisting that I walk nice (it’s so hard sometimes to act dignified). We walked past all the stores (I could smell that there were dogs in some of those stores—sadly, I was not allowed to visit them), watched with distain as two mean little scruffy dogs caused a ruckus barking and growling at me (so unrefined), and sniffed the wharfs (sadly, I wasn’t allowed to go wadding or take a ride on a boat). A low point in the day occurred when I made a fool of myself on Front Street when I passed a couple of leopard statues outside a store. They looked so real and lifelike that I actually panicked and dragged Pa away from them. I tried to save face by going back to sniff them, however, the damage was already done. I can only hope that not a lot of people noticed my alarm—though their attention might have been drawn to me when they noticed my family laughing hysterically at my expense. Que sera.

In Greenport.

After walking around the town, my family began to talk about getting lunch. After much back and forth discussion, it was decided that Ma and I would stay behind on a park bench while Pa and Sister went down the block in search of food. I wasn’t so sure about this decision. Why is it I’m always left behind when it comes to getting food? I don’t believe there is anyone more qualified than me to pick out food. True, I suspect I’d have a lot of trouble actually bringing the food back in one piece (I’d have to test each dish or sandwich once or twice to make sure everything was okay), but I’m a true connoisseur of all things edible (and let’s face it, inedible, too). Anyway, it was determined that Ma and I would stay behind while Pa and Sister got food. Usually, when my pack breaks up I freak out; I bark and whine and pull like crazy. Not this time, though. I decided to be a big boy and wait patiently for my family members to return; so I sat there, staring into the direction in which my Pa and Sister went. People and dogs came and went, a few stopped to talk to me and give me pets. While I truly did appreciate the complements I got (“What a handsome boy!” and “What a good boy!” and “He looks like a model!”) as well as the pets, I knew my mission and was not going to be distracted. When Pa and Sister returned Ma boasted what a good boy I was. Everyone crowded around me and scratched my ears and patted my sides. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a bit slighted. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the attention and, truth be told, I was quite proud of myself for being so good for so long, but no one offered to share their lunch with me (though I was eventually given a new Nylabone (for medium chewers—I love the chewy texture) which eased some of the pain).

Shortly after lunch there was a sudden increase in activity at the house. Towels were cleaned, floors vacuumed, and my toys bundled up in a plastic bag and tossed in the car. I looked up at Sister eagerly with my tail wagging. “Yep,” she said, “we’re going home!”

Sister and I slept the entire way home. To quote some girl (who frankly sang too much, but owned a cute little dog), “There’s no place like home!”