Home Alone 4: Dizzy in Charge

Here it is. Time for the annual trip of the wife to a conference in a god-forsaken land. This year's destination: Dallas, Texas. In past years, it has been in Dallas, or San Diego, or Orlando. And so, at 5 a.m. Saturday (today) wifey got into a limo and is now well on her way to the Lone Star State.

That, my friends, means that Dizzy and I are alone again, naturally. The pooch has absolutely NO idea what is happening. I am trying to understand myself, frankly, but that has little bearing on this missive. Well, maybe it does.

You see, for the next week, that is seven days, or 168 hourse, 14 feedings, 7 walks, up to 7 frisbee chases, 14 peanut butter bones, innumerable treats, nudges, etc., the Doodle Dad will end up being at the mercy of the Doodle himself.

Don't get me wrong. Dizzy isn't a dictator. Ok, maybe he is somewhat demanding, but who wouldn't be if you have to rely on ME? After all, if ya gotta go, ya gotta go, and if you're hungry but can't fill your kibble bowl, or your water jug...let's face it: Dizzy is dependant upon me. And yes, he WILL let me know when there is a need. In the end, Dizzy is in charge.

A dog trainer used to say, "Dogs do not speak English." And she was right, in a literal sense. Yet, they have their own language, in their eyes, their faces, their demeanor, in the nudging and barking and pacing and...well, if you have a dog, you already know. If they have a message, they will get it across. Like the dog in Alaska that led a state trooper to a burning home. If that was Dizzy, he would then sit and beg for a treat.

OK, I'll end the pity party for me. It will already be a busy week, and being a Doodle Dad will make it busier. I'm sure it will, as it always does, make me better understand what my lovely wife does each day, caring for Dizzy and me. I always try to be appreciative, and sometimes succeed. But I also know that I often take her for granted.

I'm not sure how Dizzy will be next Friday night when she gets home. Probably just happy happy happy that Momma has come back. His love is always (or at least, most often!) unconditional.

I'll be happy happy too. And while I believe that my love is unconditional as well, the lessons learned when Dizzy is in charge are never lost. I hope.