Dogsitting

Silly me, I thought when the kids were grown they'd want to drop off their children and take advantage of the free babysitting. Instead, the Organizer considers us incompetent. She has a point; I'm actually too arthritic to keep up with a four-year-old. As for the Fashionista, last night she organized a play date... for their dog and our dog! She had a dinner engagement, their half-grown puppy was antsy after being locked in a crate all day, and our terrier is hysterically happy whenever somebody more interesting than us shows up. Which would be, to him, anything with a pulse. BTW, that's somebody else's PBGV in the picture. Fluffy isn't nearly as well groomed as that. I should take a picture of him when the timing is right... after he has a spa day and before he gets out in the back yard to roll around and renew his dead leaf collection.

Apart from the minor contretemps associated with any babysitting operation, the evening went well. True, Bida spent the first twenty minutes of the play date sitting by the door where she last saw the Fashonista and whining plaintively, but then Fluffy coaxed her into the intoxicating game of "Let me drag you around the floor by the skin of your neck and then we can trade places." Granted, Bida's youthful energy eventually drove Fluffy to seek rest and refuge on the First Reader's lap. (Representations that a thirty-pound terrier with five pounds of hair is not a lap dog have so far failed to convince him.) But the kids had a good time and Fluffy, at least, was too tired to discuss going outside in the middle of the night.

And when the Fashionista came back for Bida, the First Reader made a slightly sick joke about possible injuries, to which she responded, "I'm never letting you babysit my children!

Gloat, chuckle, gloat. She mentioned children.