Home Alone

We were out-of-town for a week and left Pettigrew in charge with nominal support from his good buddy Liz, our house sitter. He owned it. He knows that when Liz comes, he’s in for a good time (she carries treats in her pockets!), and eventually we’ll come back home.

According to the texts we received, Pettigrew arranged for

• Shorter walks when it was below freezing.
• Epic-long walks once it began to warm up, to make up for lost time.
• Cozy cuddles on the sofa.
• And he even engineered to have a friend sleepover.

That sleepover takes some explanation. Liz watches our friends’ dog Stella and when we were looking for a sitter several years ago, they recommended her. This past week, Liz was hanging with both dogs. Knowing Pettigrew, we had warned her that if it looked like a sleepover, it should be at our house. Although generally the perfect gentleman, Pettigrew did once mark Stella’s sofa, while spending the night at her house. We didn’t want to risk a repeat.

Before leaving on vacation, Stella and Pettigrew had gone out on a walk together. She’d been to the groomer for a cut and comb out and looked quite fetching, tossing and shaking her glossy locks in an eye-catching manner.

And, unsurprisingly, on Thursday I received the following text:

I bet. I have no doubt that Pettigrew played a role and coached her on just how to look forlorn. He’s not one to leave things to chance.

Off in Austin we were having a grand time:

• sleeping late,
• staying out all day and not worrying about getting home in time for a walk,
• leaving food unprotected on counters and tables, and even
• leaving doors open as we traipsed in and out to the car.

Of course, we eagerly read every text Liz sent and, when we came home, Pettigrew did in fact rouse himself from the sofa and greet us at the door, tail wagging.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.

Today he joyously marked all along our usual walking route, reestablishing his territorial claims.