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| Harley is getting ready to go for a walk in the rain, so he can see to doggy business.. He loves his doggy raincoat, but he isn't too fond of the head hood, so mostly his head gets wet, but the rest of him stays pretty dry when nature calls. |
If my nose runs, and my feet smell, am I upside down?
I'm alive and pretty well. Company came! The dog is thrilled. I have now been reduced to the "staff" as he enthusiastically has everything to do with my friend and nothing to do with me. I'm just the cleaning lady, that washes his dog bowls now.
Today it's nice and sunny, but it poured down rain the day company came. The nights have been cool, but the days are lovely lately.
One really nice thing about my little mini-motorhome, aka Class C (built on a van chassis), is that it came with two double beds, one fore and aft. I am never sure about RV terms, but I am used to boat terms, so I describe my camper with a combination of both. Bear with me, if you are confused, I am perpetually lost. The bed over the cockpit (cab area) I refer to as the guest loft, since it has a short ladder.
Now the puppy has snubbed me. He is sleeping in the guest loft with my friend at night. Harley dog can't reach the guest loft on his own, even though he has springs in his knees, it's just too high for him to fly up to. So puppy dog sat on the settee, looking longingly up, letting out pathetic whimpers that can melt a heart. My friend picked him up to visit the bed...
The rest is history. Six pound Harley sleeps in the loft now with my friend.
When I was shopping for my motorhome, on my short list of "must haves" was a spare bed for company, not for the dog. Since I am single, meandering alone, I envisioned having a friend join me on wanderings. A few months later, little Harley convinced me in under 3 seconds, that he should join the caravan. So the guest loft has always been off limits, since he couldn't reach it on his own anyhow. Now when my friend goes to bed, Harley stands on the top of the back of the settee, waiting for an arm to appear from above, to lift him to the loft, where he lets out a big sigh before curling up to sleep.
My sailing buddy who is visiting, has now hopped aboard five times. Harley must think my friend lives at the airports. A few months, back, we went to an airport, to pick up my friend, but alas, the airport had no parking for my RV. They only had garages, and they were all too short for me to fit in. We had to creep around the arrival lanes for three or four passes, before my friend jumped in the RV, astonishing and exciting Harley into a frenzied dance of happy puppy-tude. That airport, like all now, doesn't allow you to stop at the arrival lane for more than 10 seconds to pick somebody up.
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