The house has eyes...

He watches me as I go up and down the stairs; each time bringing something to put somewhere.

"Why is she moving stuff?  Why is she ignoring us?  Why is she scribbling notes in between carrying big plastic tubs/stuffed cardboard boxes?  Why is she looking at the clock constantly? 
Why is she cursing under her breath... more then usual? "

Poor Dexter.  He sits there, then plops his muzzle down on his paws, letting only his eyes follow me as I dart between rooms.  He knows something is up.  But what?

They say dogs know approx. a 160 words ...I like to think that Dexter knows a bit more, but only because I chatter to myself.  I consider it pep talks.  I need more pep.  So in the meanwhile he and I are learning how to dramatically talk ourselves out of tough high blood pressure moments.  Which will actually come in handy for him if he ever decides to move a home and business 3 states away ... or volunteer for the annual church kiddie egg hunt to fill 3 dozen easter eggs full of candy without supervision while on a 1200 calorie diet...or tell his spouse  "one week? one week?  Suuurrree. I can be ready to leave in one week for the first initial move of household furniture" (said in a high pitch voice that gets higher at the end of the sentence, high enough so that only dogs can hear)  knowing full well that the last night before you hit the road you will be a puddle of a muddy mess, losing your contact down the drain, finding out that theres really no one to watch the cats so you must stuff them in cat carriers for a 10 hour ride in a extended cab...and wondering if you need to pack an extra pair of boots in case it snows on the way... in April.

Not that  IM worrying about leaving in a week or anything... but I think Dexter is getting nervous.  But thats ok.  We can have a looonnng  conversation in the truck. 


With the cats.


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