Were we going to be late for my egg time? I couldn’t think of anything so great that it was worth cutting off our run and rushing home other than breakfast. Even getting out of the rain wasn’t THAT exciting. “No, Oscar. I have to… go,” she explained.
It continues to perplex me why humans insist on going potty inside the house, when any civilized person would go outside where it doesn’t make a mess. But it’s just a human quirk I need to accept. We had about 2.5 miles to go before it was bombs-away. No one else was on My Trail because of the dark and the rain, so Mom kept giving me updates:
“We’re almost there, Oscar!”
“We’re going to make it to 💩time!”
“C’mon, we’ve got to hurry!”
She wasn’t using her dog-person telepathy, she was telling me these things OUT LOUD. This is another human quirk: they don’t save their voices to yell epithets at Scary Things. They like to narrate ALL their thoughts, as if everything they notice is worth barking at. Listen, lady, all I’m listening for are the magic words: “Do you wanna…” “Treat” “Breakfast” or any of the trick words where if I figure out what Mom wants she’ll give me a treat. If there are no snacks on offer, I couldn’t care less.
Suddenly, I pulled over as quick as if I’d caught a whiff of a gopher hole. “Oscar! No! It’s not time for sniffing…” Mom said as she turned around to see me…………. squatting. Mom waited impatiently while I took my time. One cannot hurry these things. When I sprung up like I was 20 pounds lighter, Mom was sullen. “What?” I asked.
“Jerk,” she said.
She didn’t talk to me for the mile back to the house.
-Oscar the 💩ch