Millie spends much of every day in our travel trailer.
Not all day, of course. She’s become accustomed to traveling by golf cart while I make my rounds.
But there are times when it’s just too difficult to do my job and keep an eye on her. She’s still a toddler and will wander… never far, but I’m compelled to call her back and urge her to stay put.
Most afternoons, just before dinner, we load into the cart and ride the mile or so down to the boat ramp. Nearby is a lovely but lightly used picnic area with table, fire ring and geese. Because of the dearth of canines and their humans, it’s an ideal spot for Millie to run through her zoomies and get ride of those pesky Canadians.
So I was thinking this afternoon, as she came galloping back to make sure I’d not left, that I — just me — am her entire world.
She can’t eat until I feed her. She can’t ask for water when the bowl is empty. She gets an early walk, a mid-day run some days, and a mad dash through the picnic grounds… on my schedule.
I keep her bed warm for her on cool nights, force anti-critter medicines on her monthly, and dig her squeaky toys out from under the sofa.
Here in northern Pennsylvania, she’s met a new world of smells, been stymied by the frogs, tumbled out of a moving golf cart twice, and been completely snookered by evasive rabbits.
And, whether she wants to or doesn’t, when I go shopping or out to eat, she waits in the truck, panting, patient, trusting that I’ll return.
Tonight we’re outside, me in my lawn chair with Millie nearby — lifting her head occasionally to confirm that we’re still an item, she and I.
I think of life with Millie. She’s probably thinking (non-verbally, however dogs do that) the old guy will finish soon and, on his schedule, we’ll go to where the water bowl awaits.
Life with Millie. Life with the old guy.
Lovely canine pal is she. She looks very well tended, and I imagine she takes good care of you as well.
Puff and Lucky are my current companions (plus occasionally Dexter, Doris and Thelma who live next door with niece Lorna). They have a screened porch with doggie door and fenced yard, but really enjoy it when I’m working outside the yard in garden or barnyard or field and they can enjoy those territories. It does make me wonder when I look up from whatever I’m doing and find an intent stare and one will soberly meet my gaze. What are they thinking???
Sweet Millie. Glad you both have each other.
Me, too.
I’m scared to get a dog even though I would love to have one.
Scared? Why?
Commitment. Guess it’s more accurate to say I’m scared of commitment. Then loss.
What a nice glimpse into the world of Millie. She is a lucky pup, and vice versa.
I love our dogs. Mine for goofily leaping into the swim spa anytime he can and yours b
Continued… because she is patient with her old man – to quote you.
I felt so horrible for making my Bianca live with me in Arizona, where she didn’t have a yard to run and play and spent many entire days home alone while mom worked at some function or another. She is SO much happier here in coastal Texas with a large yard to keep free of frogs and “flap flaps” (birds of any description).
We are their entire worlds. I wish every dog owner recognized that and appreciated it more.
Millie is lucky you recognize it and love her back ❤️
We’re both blessing and burden for them. More blessing, I hope.
I’m sure if Millie could count, she would count you as her greatest blessing.
At the very least, she counts on me to get the bed warm.