Legend has it that when Cousin Mary Anne was about to go into Kindergarten, she got the opportunity to try out the bus ahead of time, and when she got on, her mother cried . . . even though all the bus did was circumnavigate the parking lot.
I think I kind of know how Auntie Shelley felt.
The International Council of Community Churches, to which my church belongs, has an annual conference. This year it's in St. Louis, and I'm going, and what's more, I'm bringing three of the youth with me. I've only been through St. Louis, never to it, and the three girls who are coming along are great girls, and we're staying in a Hilton, so I'm really looking forward to it. Turns out that this Hilton even allows pets, but I didn't know that when I booked our rooms or our airline tickets, so Oscar has to stay home.
The Milk Guy has very kindly offered to "kennel" him for me. "Two dogs, three dogs," he says, "What does it matter?" He already knows about Oscar's random-bladder issues, and Oscar knows him and gets along with his dogs, so it's all great.
But Oscar is really attached to me. He follows me around the house (even now that he isn't perpetually leashed) and he whines if I go upstairs for a minute and keep him shut in the kitchen and he doesn't readily go to strangers . . . although it's true the Milk Guy isn't a stranger. It's just that it's one thing to leave him at the Milk Guy's for most of a day, and another thing to leave him there for seven.
I know in reality he'll be fine. He'll pick up bad doggy habits (the Milk Guy is threatening to turn him into a beggar, but I don't actually mind) and sleep on the bed and stuff, but won't he miss me? Or won't I miss him? Or will he even remember me when I get back, or want to come home with me . . . ?