Abandonment issues

Tommy stuck his nose in my face.  “That was totally unacceptable.”

“What was, Tommy?”

“Both of you leaving for days and days and weeks and weeks, and many suppers.”

I understood.  “Tommy, Buddy, we were only gone for four days, and we left someone to take care of you.”

He sniffed, “A day is like a thousand years in the sight of the Beagle.”

“I’m not sure that’s an accurate citation of the verse.  Besides, we needed to visit Deborah’s family.  Both of her brothers were there that weekend. It looks to me like you have abandonment issues.”

“We don’t have issues.  We were abandoned.  That’s the issue.  Your family is all right here.  And half of it has four legs each.”

“Tommy, you know that’s not true.  You and Tuppence love it when daughter Tess visits.  In fact, Tuppy abandons us to sleep with her.  She’s family.”

“She is occasionally.  AND, she comes to visit us.  You don’t have to leave.”

It probably wasn’t the time to tell Tommy we are traveling next month to Tess’s wedding.

About then Tuppence walked in from playing with the Cicada she had brought through the dog door into the bed room.  I asked both of them, “You like Chloe, don’t you?  She’s taken care of you before, and you always go bonkers when she visits.  And you like to go for walks with her dog McDuff.”

Tommy shot back, “She’s nice.  But we don’t have her wrapped around our little toe like we do…………..”

Tuppence snarled and hissed at Tommy, “Shhhh, hush, don’t remind him of that.”

“Look, I said, you didn’t want to go with us to the ranch.  They have three large Great Danes, a Labradoodle, and 17 horses who can step on unwary city dogs.”

Tuppence said, “We smelled all of that on you when you got home.  We knew you’d been dog cheating.”

“No such thing,” I said.  “Believe me, smelling the Great Danes and looking into the maw of a Dane are two different things.”

Tommy puffed up.  “I’m as badass as a Great Dane.”

“Yeah, sure, Tommy.  But see, you’re 27 pounds of ass, good or bad, and Rory alone is 180 pounds of badass.  The math doesn’t work in your favor.  And that doesn’t count the 150 pounds each of Vanna and Tash---plus the horses.”

“Anyway, Posse,” I continued. “ You don’t like car rides.  And that one was 10 hours each way.”

Tuppence turned her back on me.  “Cars take us to the vet.”

“You might be surprised to know,” I said, “that I drive myself to the doctor—that’s what we call a human veterinarian.”

Tommy said, “We’re not talking about your sanity, or lack, here.  We’re talking about you abandoning us to the mercies of nature.”

“What?  You stayed in your own home.  You had the sofa for day sleeping, and the bed for night sleeping.  Chloe gave you breakfast, supper, elevenses, and evening raw hide.  And you had your dog door to come and go to the back yard when you wanted.”

“See,” snapped Tuppence, “you’re just lucky we’re such self-reliant dogs.”

“Self reliant?  Self reliant?  You get food and treats several times a day, brought to you and put in your bowls by a human.  The A/C was running to keep the house cool for you, and I happen to know that Chloe played with you and gave you many scratches every day we were gone.”

“And,” Tuppy quickly interjected, “we had to climb up on the sofa, and the bed, and push the dog door open all by ourselves.”

“You do that when I’m here,“ I said.  (Thinking to myself, they seem to have the same world view as some “self-made men” we know.)

“You’re our back up system.”

So there it is, I’m reduced to a rusting backup generator for a pair of dogs.  For this I went to college?

Tuppy continued, “We voted.  You are not to leave the house again without permission of all residents—all Beagle residents.”

“That’s going to make it kind of tough, “ I said.  “Can’t I even go to the grocery store?”

Tuppence pondered.  Then she asked, “Do you get our dog food at the grocery store?”

“No, I order it from Amazon.  The bags are heavy, and they bring it right to the door.”

“Then, no,” said Tuppence, “you can’t go to the grocery store.  As long as Amazon delivers our food, there’s no need.”

Having exhausted themselves from the effort of negotiating with a lesser being, the Beagle Posse went through the dog door into the yard, peed, came back in, climbed up on the sofa, and went to sleep.  Waiting for the time to self-reliantly walk over to their supper dishes.