Last week we were so excited about going to California to visit friends and spend NYE celebrating with folks who are so special to us. Before we left, we began to think about what we would do with Oliver. If you remember reading when we first got him, you will know that I have never been a dog person, but was willing to become a dog owner for Randy. The sad part was that when we bought Oliver, Randy was in no shape to care for himself, much less a dog. So the responsibility fell to me. It wasn’t that I minded, as Oliver storle my heart from the beginning. But as he grew, well, you know the story, when they aren’t the adorable little fur balls they were when they are puppies, I found myself lacking as much patience with him upon occasion. So as months went by, I began to think about the good ole days, the BO days, (before Oliver) when we didn’t have to take walks at 10 p.m. Or have to wake up earlier than I wanted because Oliver wanted to go out. Then there were the times, when he would run out the front door and I would have to go chase him. And that sight will probably be forever etched in our neighbors mind when I am running in my robe, yelling “Oliver, come back and I’ll give you a treat”…I know…yes we need to have him trained, we wil be doing that as soon as we can. But back to the story. We decided that Oliver would need to be boarded as our daughter was going to be out of town also. The morning that we were to leave for the airport, I had Randy to call PetsMart to see what all we were suppose to take for Oliver and he informed me that Oliver could have his bed, a blanket and his toys. So I gathered up the bed, both blankness (he has one that he sleeps with and one that he lays on during the day, so of course he needed both of them) and all of his toys. I included in his little diaper bag a list of his schedule, which in my mind, I truly thought they would appreciate knowing when he usually eats and so on and so forth. I guess this is a good time to mention that I just couldn’t go with Randy to take Oliver, as I was crying too hard as he left. It was breaking my heart that I couldn’t tell oliver that we would be back, that we were not deserting him forever. On a day back in November when I was scrubbing the carpet after a little accident, you had told me that I would cry because oliver was leaving for his first boarding stay, I would have told you that you were crazy. It never dawned on me that I would be so worried about him. And Yes, I called every day to check on him. So I guess I am more of a dog person than I ever thought I would be.
We get to the airport to fly home and find that our plane wil be late getting home so Jodi offered to go get Oliver and let him play at her house for a while and then she would bring him home so he would be here when we got in. That was great as I was just so worried about him having to spend another night in that awful place that would not even feed Oliver his morning toast with butter, cut up in little bites. So we get home and there Oliver greets us and life is good. Jodi had followed my directions that I had given her from the airport, to leave the living room lights on for him, to turn on the TV so he would have noise, be sure he had food and water and that his toys were all out of the bag and that she walk him before leaving him here all alone for an hour before we were due home.
The next morning Jodi calls me and tells me that she and the lady at PetsMart had quite a conversation about me. The lady told her that Oliver was suppose to only bring one toy, one blanket and his bed and that she had had to log in 13 items for the little Prince. Jodi informed her that I had done the same thing to her when she went to camp; at least they didn’t have to endure hourly phone calls like the camp counselors did back then.
Apparently I might need to find a different boarder next time we need to leave Oliver as my reputation as a “hovering mom” has even found it’s way clear out to Arizona.
So our little PetsMart Prince is back home and once again, enjoying his morning buttered toast and treats when he escapes out the front door. If he could talk, I know he would be telling me not to take him back to that awful place that just treated him like a regular dog.