In Her Own Voice: Stella Is this Week’s Guest Blogger

Friday morning: such a ruckus! A girl wants her beauty sleep, but, before the sun was even up, my family was banging around, sending the aroma of coffee wafting through the air, and piling luggage in the hall.

I dutifully got up to see them off and then returned to the snuggly warmth of my bed. Peace. Quiet. Sleep.

All too soon there were footsteps on the porch and the rubbing, scratching sound of someone trying to fit the key in the lock. As the only member of the family at home I went to the door to greet the visitors. And, oh my, is that the clicking of claws too?

As soon as the door swung in, I deftly stepped out on to the porch.

My boy Pettigrew was waiting for me! I gave a quick full-body shake to fluff my fur; I like to look my best, and went to offer a welcoming sniff.

Then the leash clicked on and we headed out into the beautiful day. A girl likes an escort on her walk and Pettigrew is my best beau.

We walked. We sniffed. We tangled leashes. It was lovely.

Back home, I went inside to have a bite to eat, while Pettigrew waited politely on the porch.

But wouldn’t you know it, he came back in the afternoon and evening too. A girl could get used to this!

The next day was rainy, but I didn’t want to let Pettigrew down. He had clearly been out for a while by the time he appeared at my door. That wet fur smell you know. It’s so distinctive. So, I joined him for a sloppy stroll

Back home I got a quick rubdown including my paws. I don’t like wet feet. Who does?

But in the evening when I came out on to the porch, Pettigrew wasn’t there! Yet still a leash was slung over my neck and I was expected to go outside. I’ll have you know that I quickly made use of the facilities and turned back home. But no, the tyrant on the other end of the leash kept pulling me on, and on, and on. I used every trick in the book. I would give her a few steps and then tried to use her momentum to turn back. I crouched and pulled. I dug my paws in and stared at her from under my dripping lashes. Finally she caved. The towel for my rubdown hadn’t fully dried from the afternoon. Distasteful!

I practically ran to my cozy bed.

But the next morning, my best beau was back on the porch. The sun was shining. I let bygones be bygones and pushed aside the memory of that miserable, wet walk from last night as I fluffed my fur and went to give him a warm sniff.

Note: Pettigrew’s friend Stella was staying home while her family went out of town. Pettigrew and I offered to check on her and assist with those areas where she needed help: food, water, and walks. Stella is a lovely, sweet gal, but sometimes with her fur flounces and swishy walk, she reminds us of the blonde from Julie Brown’s song.