The View From Down Here

I told Dad that I needed a title for my posts. After a minute of inappropriate “wiener dog” titles, he came up with “The Short and Long of It”. Who you calling short! I kindly reminded him that I’m a big dog stuck in a small dog’s body, so for now we’re going with “The View From Down Here”.

Being the first child, and a dog, I see things from a different viewpoint. For instance, I know that dad dropped his Sports Illustrated behind the couch on Friday, and still hasn’t picked it up yet (and I get in trouble for eating Kleenex under there, I don’t get it). Mom and Dad have set up a nursery, but I’ve noticed that they haven’t laid out newspaper yet, like they did when I came home. They’ve messed up building the kennel (it has no top and they keep accidently calling it a crib), and they are dangling these little stuffed animals over it that can’t be reached. So mean!

My biggest skill though is my ability to read faces. Actually, it was down to me and Simon Baker for the lead on “The Mentalist”, but I missed the final audition when someone dropped their dirty socks in the dressing room and I had to kill them. Anyway, the nursery does weird things to Mom and Dad. Mom looks equal parts over prepared and under-prepared, worried that she doesn’t have the essentials for a baby, yet concerned that it’s too early to get anything.

I’ve also learned how to make any woman smile. Invent a shrink ray, and shrink anything and show it to them. They gush every time they look at those tiny clothes (they are SO cute!).

Dad’s face is happy sad in the nursery. I don’t know how a face does both, but it’s true. Happy for the room is ready, and sad because there is no one to fill it. I keep sneaking in there to claim it as my own, but that doesn’t fly.

The last thing I’ve noticed is that they must really love me. They brought home a baby outfit and wouldn’t you know, it had dogs all over it. I guess they want the baby to be a little bit like their first child.

Quinton

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