July 26, 2015

White Dog and the others felt a lazy Sunday was in order after waiting up so extra late for us to return from the Opera. "You can all enjoy breakfast and then nap until we get home from the Board meeting," I told them. They were not happy at the thought of being abandoned yet again...and frankly, it WAS a morning when sleeping in would have been a wonderful luxury.

We got all the way to the meeting before Steve realized he had left his office keys at home. We turned around. Taking us at our word, the WDA was soundly sleeping when Steve ran back in. He was in the middle of the living room before he awakened Sachi who let out a joyous "They Are Home!" Song.

In order to not keep the others waiting at the office, Steve gave a hasty explanation and head pats as he headed back out of the door. It was pitiful to see Zsofia standing behind Sachi on the Watching Chair and Bella on the other begging us to just stay home.

Like the opera the night before, this was a meeting that just would not end. After a certan point, in my mind at least, meetings outlive their usefulness and become counterproductive. Finally, the Board agreed to table the remaining chunk of the agenda for next month. In the car on the way home, we debated whether we were more hungry or tired.

This time the WDA greeted us at the door and lectured on our apparent inability to "hurry right back home." Jerky treats helped make amends...and bites from the leftover fruit salad from last night's tailgate picnic that we humans finished up.

"Sweet White Dogs," Steve said when we finished eating. "I MUST take a nap. I know you have been napping and waiting for us to come home. My sleep was so short last night that I am having trouble staying awake." Sachi, Ferguson, Zsofia and Nilla followed him into the bedroom to get his pillow and then back to arrange themselves next to and around him as he stretched out on the couch. They did not complain at the opportunity to share Steve's rest.

White Dog sat at my shoulder. "I hope there is no more Mozart this season," she said, referring to the three-act opera of last night. "No more Mozart," I agreed as I snuggled against her side, "and only one more opera left this year." From beneath my chair, a muffled Bella voice said, "Thank Dog! Then you'll be home."