For all of the Boss fans (and if you are not a Boss fan, change the channel), Boss is back at home. He successfully transitioned from his temporary leave of absence (sabbatical if you will) while I sorted out allergy triggers. The doctor, once again, confirmed that I am not allergic to my dog. I knew this all along. No one has an allergy to utterlyadorablecuteness.
Boss quickly settled back into life at home. He wasn’t too pleased about the daily menu options but such is life when you are a dog. For the past 6 weeks he had grown accustomed to twice daily feasts of chicken, carrots, broccoli and kibble. And not just any chicken, carrots, broccoli – we’re talking the good stuff, organi c. It’s true. One night we were sitting in Whole Foods and noticed the mother in law walking out of the store. When Chris asked what she was doing, she said: buying organic chicken for the dogs.
Naturally. Of course.
Around here, it’s just kibble. The best kibble we could find but kibble nonetheless. An occasional spinach leaf that I “accidentally” drop on the floor at a predictable time each day (lunch). Maybe a rawhide bone. We don’t do treats and we don’t value food. We figured if we raised Boss without placing a high value on food he wouldn’t value food. There is nothing worse than a dog that demands people food – jumping all over the dinner table, attacking loaves of bread on the counter. I know this because my parents had such dog. Cookie, the Dalmatian, who once at an entire wheel of Baked Brie.
Entire wheel of cheese: gone.
About a day after Boss got home, I took him to the vet for some vaccinations. Every time I go to the vet there is receptionist so surly at the desk that I want to shove my dog in the face to cheer her up. Just smother her in cuteness until she can’t resist but smile while taking my money. No. Instead it’s the same cold greeting every time:
What is the dog’s name?
Boss. His name is Boss. Seriously how many Boss Waterstraat’s can there be in county.
Boss and I take a seat in the examining room. I can sense his fear as he not only jumps on to the bench to be with me, but crawls behind me.
I look around our house. It’s pretty clean. I’m pretty clean. There are days I don’t change out of pajamas and sometimes I have bed head but otherwise, I’m down with hygiene. And so is my house.