August 7, 2010

White Dog was up bright and early as usual for her time at the Park with Steve but instead of the Park before teaching, he headed toward his office, his fluffy white assistant in tow. He is working on a model project that must be done by Sunday afternoon and time is short so he has been forced to focus every uncommitted minute toward meeting the deadline.

While he exactoed and measured and assembled, White Dog lay under the table crunching a bone and making sure Steve didn't cut himself again. He ran home at nine am to change for teaching and then headed off to school...White Dog snoozed while Quinn and I accomplished morning tasks.

In the afternoon, Steve returned from class, changed back into his "construction" clothes and wolfed down lunch. White Dog, once again, prepared to accompany him to the office to supervise and maybe get in a few rounds of hall ball. Quinn was waiting at the door to go, too.

"You can't go, you mark," White Dog unkindly said to her brother. He came over and rested his head on my lap. "Well, Big Boy, she is right, but she could have been nicer. Once we get past this phase, you can go to dad's office. But for now, how about some chicken jerky?" His face lit up and he sat expectantly. White Dog came over to sit as well. "Sorry, Perrita Blanca, this treat round is for the stay-at-homers, you and dad better get going!" The Other White Dog smirked at his small victory as WD pranced out to the car.