If you ask me, this blog has become way too much a journal of my mom’s and dad’s travels and far too little of what it actually should be: the highlights of my life. After all, the
tails tales of a pint-sized road warrior, fighting crime one groundhog at a time, are far more entertaining than some boring, stupid stories about circumnavigating the world by ship, wouldn’t you say?
While Mom and Dad are off gallivanting around the world, I got stuck back in Tennessee hanging with my grandmother Jeje, my birth mom Katey and a whole bunch of other white muppets that strongly resemble me.
From the second I got home in August, I knew it would all be fine as Katey and my birth dad Kobe are a whole lot of fun and like to play tag!
Plus! There’s actual greenery in which I can frolic! The first year of my life was spent living in a concrete jungle, so this grass stuff is all new territory to me.
So what have I been doing, you may ask (since, well, quite a few of you, my
loyal subjects regular readers, have in fact inquired as to my whereabouts)? Well, there’s been a whole lot of sleeping. Sleeping at night, sleeping while watching the U.S. Open, sleeping during Breaking Bad…hey, a girl needs her beauty rest, even when that beauty rest is 20 hours out of a 24-hour day.
The grandparents have done their due diligence and taken us on weekend trips to pet-friendly resorts in Georgia and football game days in Knoxville. (It’s not nearly as fun when you’re cheering for a losing team, let me be the one to break that to you. I don’t know who this Kiffin character is, but he seems like someone who might have been chummy with Hitler and therefore his name is not allowed to be used in our home.)
They’ve given us some (underage) driving lessons. Sweet ride, no?
And naturally, the monkey—who not only is missing vital limbs that Dad has repeatedly sewn back on, but now is nose-less, as well—continues to be well loved, by all members of this household, but particularly me.
And my space is no longer my own anymore either. My mom Katey just always has to be snuggling wherever I go. MOMS!
Jeje also spends a lot of time playing card games on her computer, and as such, I have become her second righthand alongside her on top of the computer desk (can’t boot Katey from the position of first righthand…not yet, at least).
Of course, being a lady
who lunches of such fine pedigree requires a certain level of maintenance. In the South, this means monthly grooming (whereas in California I was able to get away with a certain hippie look and an occasional weed-whacking session performed by my dad). I’m not pleased with the froufrou bow in case that general look of dissent isn’t apparently evident on my face.
I Skype with Mom and Dad from whatever country they’re in, on occasion—you know, whenever my busy schedule allows. I don’t really see them inside that flat box that Jeje sticks up to my nose. Instead, I swivel around and stare at the speakers. I’m pretty sure they’re in there, actually. I wonder if they plan on coming out anytime soon?
But mostly, I’m just busy keeping it real. Being with my people grandparents and my people great-grandfather and my birth parents doesn’t suck, not one bit. In fact, they’re downright spoiled me rotten, and I’m not sure I want to leave this palace of good fortune anytime soon, or maybe never. I just hope there’s still a little room left in my heart for my actual Mom and Dad if they ever decide to rejoin me in this foreign land called Tullahoma. All I have to say is they better come bearing some kick-a$$ treats to make up for four months of neglect. I’m a tough sell, but I might be able to forgive quickly were tripe involved.
(Can you tell which fluff ball is me? Brownie points to those who can!)
Peace out, I’m smelling a turkey. Thanksgiving is the most important of the holidays in dog land, and my skills (sniffing out then licking up hastily dropped morsels) might be required after all.