I admit it. I am a bad dog mother. I did what every other person on the planet does despite swearing they won’t do when they have a kid, and got lazy. Back in 2004, Emmett was a feisty 3 year old, all red and athletic and ready for anything. All of a sudden, I turn around and the kid is starting kindergarten and Emmett is going grey and all the sneaked in toddler food has given him a spare tire that I’m not walking him enough to get rid of. Consider me flogged. I feel pretty badly about it.
So now what have I done- I stuck a puppy into the mix. OK, Brother Skippy isn’t entirely a puppy, but he’s a wild man with no manners and a neverending supply of energy who likes to jump on Emmett and bite his ears, so close enough. Emmett is too mellow at this stage of the game to even bother correcting him- he just takes it and gives me exasperated glances.
Shhhh! I’m hiding from that yappy guy!
Not a word, Mom. You owe me.
Have you seen Emmett? Huhhuhhaveyahuh? No? Maybe I can sniff him out….
Your secret is safe with me, Em.
