I never thought he would leave and his computer is unlocked. I never thought this day would come. I know he let me write my own post once before, but he did most of the writing. This one will be different. Finally, I get my chance to speak my mind. We are not all the same, we don’t all look alike, and no we don’t all smell like a wet dog all the time, only when we are wet.

Goldens Are Like That

To clear up some things, I have my own voice. “He” doesn’t speak for me. I am not lethargic, spoiled, love-struck or any other adjective that he can come up with at my expense. I am well read; I used to read the Times until I was properly housebroken. I would read more books if I could turn the pages without tearing or chewing them to pieces first. I am not the typical millennial; I would never vote for anyone named Bernie. Goldens are like that.

He treats me pretty good. He needs more exercise but doesn’t seem to get the hint. The collar around the neck isn’t a necktie; it has a loop for a reason. What do I have to do, attach my own leash for him to get the message? Occasionally, I see him walk funny out of the corner of my eye. I pretend to be asleep so that he doesn’t notice that I’m watching him. I hope he doesn’t think I will leave him stranded if it happens while we are walking. I will make sure he gets home safely. I won’t think any less of him. Goldens are like that.

I hear him when he gets up in the morning. He will come into my room, or what he refers to as “his office,” will grab his computer and sit on the couch for a while typing away. I thought that we finished the project we were working on; editing shouldn’t take him this long. I don’t know why he’s worried. I seldom chew on the furniture or leave a stain on the carpet. I’m not a toddler anymore. It’s not like I can read what he writes. No one words like “ubiquitous” and “contemporaneously” anymore. I wish he would let me out of my crate so I could keep him company. I don’t like it when he is alone. Goldens are like that.

I like it when he leaves the door to the cabinet where he keeps the trash open a crack so I can help my self to the good stuff. Sure, I get two meals a day, but the house cat gets six; three just at breakfast depending on who gets duped by his play. Thankfully, he lets me lick his ice cream bowl when he’s finished. Sure, I wish he would leave a little more for me, but I will wait my turn. Goldens are like that.

I know he means well. I know that he misses me when he’s gone. I like it when he works from home the most. He lets me sleep in “his” leather chair. At least he doesn’t travel very much. I worry a lot when he’s gone. I know he can “do it,” traveling that is, I’m happy to see him back home. He always greets me first when he gets home. Maybe, it’s because I’m the first one to run to the door to greet him or maybe it’s because I need him to know that I am glad he can still bring home some bacon. Goldens are like that.

Man’s Best Friend

He might be upset that I did this without his consent. If you see him tell him to lighten up and watch a little Disney once in a while. Walt knew that all animals could talk that they were usually the smartest in the house!

Take that daddio!

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Ivy, a friend to many, the Sidekick to one