First of all, I'm six. That's like forty three in dog years, which means that I'm middle-aged (immortal if you ask my mom). So I'm no young pup. Sure, when people stop me at the park to remark about how beautiful I am and to and ask about my breeding (American Dingo, natural selection all the way!), they are always so surprised to find out how old I am because I project such youth and vitality. But, I mean, that's just when I'm out for walks mostly. Because when I'm at home, I'm either sleeping on the bed, sleeping on the couch, sleeping under the bed, sleeping beside the couch, or sitting on the couch watching out for kids or mailmen (so that I can scare them with my loud and vicious-sounding bark.) Point is, when I'm on walks, I'm all about being Energy Dog, but when I'm at home, that's time for Mitch to relax.
When my mom and dad kept talking about this "spring break," I thought I might get to forget about some of my stresses, you know, like cats and bicycles and kids bouncing basketballs.
But apparently "break" is more like "stress," because I had a really stressful "break."
First there was Fletcher. I mean, we've talked about Fletcher. I kind of like him; I just wish that he would chill out. Come on, Fletcher. You don't have to be punching me in my face every waking minute of our visit together. We can just relax in a dirt spot. And wipe that grin off your face. Okay, and like, when I first met Fletcher, he wasn't that much bigger than Reilly, but now he's as big as I am! What the hell is that? I'll tell you one thing, Mitch is not okay with Fletcher getting bigger and bigger.
Basically, with Fletcher I just growl and growl and maybe snap. Sometimes I can get him on the ground and start "dancing" with his face, but not too often. Fletcher is so strong! But he sure is handsome--so handsome that it's hard to overcome my desire to "dance" with his face.
So, anyway, Fletcher came, and he was only here for a day, and I was all, "Thank goodness! I'm so tired!" So I had a day of rest. Only a day. One day. That's it.
Because the next day we had another visitor, Phebe. Phebe is even younger than Fletcher, but she's not quite as big, which was nice. And you know what she did? She ate my bones! Sure, I had my own bone the whole time, but she'd just saunter over to MY bed and start chewing on a bone that came from MY bone jar. So you know what I'd do? I'd drop the bone I was chewing on, march my dog butt over to Phebe, and take that bone back from her. Why? Because I'm Mitch, and sometimes I'm an asshole.
Phebe was here for a couple days, and she did get better. I even decided to give up on being so jealous about bones. She liked to run, so I would chase her around the house trying to wear her out, but you know what? You pretty much can't wear out a puppy. They have so much energy! What the hell, you guys?
Then Phebe left, and so did my mom and dad (Thanks a lot, Mom and Dad. It's not like I wanted to go to the lake or anything. I hate the lake. Oh yeah, that's right. I LOVE the lake. And now I hate you guys.) I thought that with everyone gone I would finally get some solace, but I was again mistaken, because Reilly came over. Now, Reilly time is like really exhausting but also really fun (kind of like a trip to Mexico, except that I didn't get to go to Mexico, either. That was just another example of Mitch being left behind. I seriously would bite my parents if they didn't sprinkle parmesan cheese over my food), and he's getting older and more into naps, so we had a great time. We even rented some of the old Air Bud movies and popped popcorn. Maybe you didn't know this, but dogs LOVE popcorn. And also steak.
And no sooner did Reilly leave than Mom and Dad returned. I mean, can't a dog relax? I really need my alone time!
Mom and Dad are back at work now, and whining about getting up early and needing rest, but I'm happy, because I needed to get some rest to make up for that "break."
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