The heat. The dryness. My pour snout.
You would think my pets — The Arthritis-Free Two-Leggers — would take pity on the sorry state of my snowser. But no. They crank that natural gas heat up and up.
I’m still here — stuck somewhere with family, far up north, surrounded by what I now know is “snow.” (It took a few accidents on the back porch before The Humans decided to name it in a conversation and assure me all was well. Yeah. You would think all is well when you’ve got shoes to protect you from the freezing cold nightmare.)
I haven’t figured out the point of the “snow.” Looking outside, I have the uneasy feeling humanity’s dandruff problem has reached uncontrollable heights. I know I have no worries inside — in our raging inferno, the light stuff simply turns to water.
Though I wish I had more of that water. I have to keep submerging my snout in my water bowl to keep it hydrated. The dryness, the cracking and pealing … it’s enough to depress any canine.
And my pets — what strange behavior …
Since two days ago — when my pets secured the parking spot closest to the apartment entrance — we have not left. To go anywhere. To do anything.
I peer out the balcony door to the parking spaces below.
Most of the spots have indeed filled up. But only our hatchback is hidden by a five-inch coat of “snow.”
On bathroom runs, I’ve playfully walked over to the car, and, leaning against it, looked longingly up at my oldest female pet, The Mother.
“Oh, Creak, now you know we can’t drive anywhere right now,” she said.
An inquisitive look on her face, she continued, “You know if we move, we won’t get that spot back.”
And there you have it. My pets have put off all social activities, runs to the grocery store, and last-minute shopping trips … to save a parking spot.
My pets are insane.