Home is where the heart is
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Or perhaps home is where the million-jillion voice mails are. I'm back from Colorado, wishing that I had never left.

I picked the dog up at the kennel early this morning. There's nothing more gratifying than to show up, and have your dog recognize you through an observation window that you're standing more than 15 feet from. He freaked out, tried with much effort to squeeze his long body through the chain-link fence of the daycare play area, and I immediately ran like an idiot to pick him up. How quickly the mighty have fallen...

Turns out his socialization abilities are improving because his report card from the kennel (something all boarders get at the end of their stay) mentioned that he made friends with a red coonhound named Remy, and was "not afraid to run with the big dogs." Which explains why, when I first showed up this morning, he was running around at full speed, barking his head off at a very hairy retriever. Apparently he's not scared of dogs that are 5X his size.

Which means he's either very, very brave, or very, very dumb. I love him a lot, but I have a sinking feeling it's the latter of the two.