Who let the dogs out?

We’re at Mom & Dad’s this week. So far, it’s been pretty lazy, which is just what I like when we leave San Antonio. It seems like so many times we try to do too much when we’re on vacation, and end up needing another vacation when we get home (and I’m sure you can figure out how our workplaces feel about that).

Since Monica isn’t feeling so hot right now, we’ve decided to forgo the trip to Chicago and the trip to Indianapolis, and just hang out here and be veggies, and that’s just fine with me.

We had to bring the dog with us, of course, and he’s having a grand old time playing in my parent’s big yard with Rhett. The only problem is that he knows there’s another dog in the house and now when he wakes up in the morning, instead of waiting patiently for us to get up, he starts whining because he wants to go and play.

This means that, even though I’m on vacation, I’m getting up at 7 AM or earlier to let the dogs out.

So I guess that answers the question, doesn’t it?

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