Perfect Marcy

I wish I had one of those jobs where I could be all European and bring the dog in to sleep in a little nest under my desk.

Sadly, Rosie would never go for that.
She would run around like the pigeon whose head Grace cut off last night, all throughout my building and probably growl at people who came up to my desk to ask me about that fax, or the thing with the report.
Smart dog, that one.

Seriously, though.
Wouldn't it be kind of awesome if this was France and pets were allowed to come to work with you?
You'd always have lunch plans and the commute wouldn't be lonely.

I'm actually pretty jealous of this woman I work with and yeah, it's about the doglet.

She watched Rosie while I went on vacation.
Apparently, Rosie has more fun there than she ever does with me.

I get back and I hear that she was a dream.
She played ALL DAY LONG with one of my dogs! They chased each other and frolicked in the sprinklers and then Rosie would jump up on my lap to tease Marcy and then they would take off and run run run again! It was so cute!
I didn't mention that Rosie makes it a point to be a stuck up brat at the dog park and although plenty of dogs want her to play, she generally tells them, "Get aWAY! I'm like! Totally chasing the BALL right now! Eww! Don't TOUCH me!"
For her to play with another dog is pretty amazing.

But here's the part that stung: "She was SO CUTE! Every night? She crawled right up into the crook of my arm and nestled her head onto my shoulder. She fit just right and it was SO CUTE!"

Holding back my tears and trying to swallow the enormous lump of jealousy, "Really?"

"She would sigh really loudly and then twitch a little and just cuddle all night!"

I think I turned my head right then so that my friend wouldn't be able to see the single tear that had somehow managed to escape. I coughed and rubbed at the OTHER eye so she would think it was allergies.

But I knew the truth.
I knew now why my dog was so mopey on the day after I got home.
It made sense that she was just lying on the couch with her head between her paws and not even mustering up the energy to lift her head when I tried to get a game of Pet the Pet going.
This is a game where I yell at the top of my lungs, "Pet the pet! I'm going to pet the pet!!!! Petting the pet! Where's the pet so I can pet the pet?" while chasing her through the house. My old neighbors taught me that game and I guess having me chase her is like, a total burn after her long weekend with Perfect Marcy the Perfect Doggy Best Friend and Perfect Marcy's Perfect Owner of Cuddle and Cute Sleep.


That was only four days.
I'm terrified that when I go to pick her up after my big trip into Holiday Hell, the one where I visit my family and eat like I have never had cooked food before, I am worried that I'll go to pick up my dog and she'll hide from me and whimper when I drag her into my non-Marcied car and she's back to non-cuddling.

Dude, even when, in the dark of the night I go, Rosie? Rosie come here! Come up here by me! Here's my arm! It's got a crook! Cuddle?
She sighs heavily and leans her head down but she never actually lies down.
She turns around and heads back to the foot of the bed, curls up and leaves me feeling totally inadequate to my friend/pet-sitter.

arizonasarah at 11:16 a.m.

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