I woke up around 6:10 in morning, said goodbye to Kitti, turned on the TV, and then suddenly it was ten minutes of eight. I hate those random time skips.
Cardiff totally got shafted on a walk. I had enough time to get everything together and get him out into the yard for a little relief before I had to leave. I ended up getting to work about twenty after eight.
I felt like I should have gone home and walked the dog instead of having lunch, but I don’t know if that would’ve been good or bad — he’d get excited that I came home and think that his day was going to be great, only to end up shoved into a crate again for another five hours.
There are thousands of people in the world who don’t walk their dogs every morning. I know missing one walk isn’t going to turn him into a fat, barky, miserable beast. I just feel guilty because up until now the only times I haven’t walked him have been daycare days, when I knew he was going to run his fuzzy little ass off for eight hours.
Let us not mock my weird guilt issues, okay?
Anyhow, later last night, Cardiff came over with one of his toys. We played fetch for a little while and then I held onto the toy. He wanted to take it and run off with it again. I wouldn’t let go. Suddenly, his eyes go wide and he looks past my shoulder, over toward the door.
The dog totally tried to fake me out so I’d drop the toy.
So I think we’re okay. And I think my dog is a little bit scary.
