It’s a pretty sure bet that there isn’t a Griff out there who doesn’t like a ride in the car. And my girls and I are no exception. Atticus can’t go in the car because he’s a Puker, Mom says. I don’t know what a Puker is, but it can’t be good if it prevents you from riding in the car. So, ANYWAY, I digress.
All the circling and whimpering lets the girls know there is something in the works. Soon we are all at the door, impatiently waiting. And Mom does not disappoint us. Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to the bank we go.
Goin’ potty first, ridin’ in the car, pullin’ up to the window, bein’ fawned over (AWWW, aren’t we just so adorable???), and finally, finally, the coup de gras- gettin’ TREATS. Just like ballpark hotdogs are always best at the ballpark, those treats taste so much better coming from the bank than at home.
I’ll tell you, I am one crazy happy dog. I have pride, just not that much. It does not make me ashamed to admit that I’m this easy to please. It doesn’t matter who knows it (goodness, I’m putting it on the internet). I’d even shout it from the roof top- if I were more than 12″ tall and could get up there. Maybe in another lifetime…
Oh, I’m a happy dog, I’m a happy dog.