Mom is Cross

Sailor here.

Mom’s being cross. Mom’s being wordy. Well, wordier than normal. She is sitting in the swing chair with a pencil and a cup of coffee. She is puzzled.

Jib and I are swinging her. First I put my nose in her lap, then Jib does. (There are cookies in her lap under the puppy papers.) Mom swings toward the hot tub. Mom swings toward the grooming table. Mom goes back. And forth. And forth. And back. And she twirls.

“Sailor,” Mom finally said. “Have YOU ever actually been seasick?”

“Once, I think,” I looked deep into her eyes. “When I went to the dog doctor and came home drunk and shaven.”

“Well, you and Jib are making ME seasick.”

That is funny! Sailor, Jib, seasick, get it? BAHAHAHA!

Jib and I suddenly took off.

Bark! Bark! Someone’s in the street! Alarm bark! Bark! Bark!

Whistle! (Mom really can whistle, and loud, too.) She whistles us to quiet when we run to the fence and yell.

Go run to Mom! Run fast to Mom!

I tried to beat Jib, but he was too fast. I knew we would get cookies for coming on the whistle. Jib didn’t, but he still beat me.

I got my cookie first. Hahahaha, Jibby.

We swang Mom some more, looking for cookies.

“Sailor,” Mom said, “What’s a five-letter word for ‘get lost’?”

A squirrel yelled at us from across the lawn.

We scrammed.