Thursday, January 17, 2008

Dog Car Blues

Sailor here.

My dog car has disappeared. It’s been disappeared for quite a while. Every time I run out the front door, I search the driveway, but it’s not there. In its place is what Mom calls the Blue Behemoth. What’s a Behemoth?

The Behemoth is big and beautiful. It has tires that smell like tires and not other dogs-in-parking-lots. The front seat smells like Mom. The back seat smells like a back seat. The back-back smells like ME! When Mom first opened the back-back, I jumped right in. Oooh, carpeting. Mom motioned me out. I jumped out. I jumped back in. Mom laughed.

“Sailor,” she said, “Stay out a minute while I move you in.”

Move me in? I just showed her how well I could move myself in!

But then she went on to lift in my wire crate, my crate blankie, my soft dog show crate, my leashes, my water bowl and my basket of brushes. She also lifted in her chair and stuffed it into a corner.

“Okay, Sailor,” she said. “Hop in!” She held my crate door open.

I hopped in again. I settled down. I felt right at home.

I used to be able to look out the windows of the old dog car and see the streetlights, the cars next to us, and the sidewalk. Now I see the back of the back seats and the back of the front seats and the back of Mom. The Behemoth’s windows are above my head and I can’t see out, but looking at Mom’s head is really great. No matter how the front of her head looks, the back never changes. I find this comforting.

Suddenly a whooshing noise erupted above my head and cold air gushed down on me. I jumped a little and looked up.

“What’s that?”

“How do you like your own air conditioning, Sailor?” Mom asked, fiddling with a dial in front of her.

The air whooshed loudly and the fur on my back was ruffled. Then it whooshed more softly and I was bathed in a cool breeze.

“I can turn on the heat for me and the cold for you,” she went on.

“You mean I get to be cool enough when you get to be warm enough?”

“Yup, I can be toasty and you can be frosty.”


Mom fiddled with some dials again and suddenly the back-back windows opened. They closed. They opened again.

“Sailor, are your windows open?” Mom asked.

“Mom,” I said, panting a bit with concern. “Are you all right?”

Mom turned around and looked at me. She looked at my windows. “Open,” she mumbled, stating the obvious. “I wanted to know how these worked before we got underway.”

The back-back windows closed. The air conditioning whooshed. The car rumbled to life and off we went!

I shifted onto one hip, relaxed in the lap of luxury and looked at the back of Mom’s head. “Great dog car, Mom,” I told her silently, “Great dog car.”

So, when do I get my own flight attendant?

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