Baby-sitting Portia

I’ve been away for the past three days baby-sitting for my beloved dog-niece, Portia, at her house.

We had a splendid time.

I have to tell you, Portia is one smart dog. One of her daddies is a veterinarian, so she has a fantastic health-care plan and is also well-trained. She has her schedule and I’ve learned to stick to it.

For example, she expects her breakfast at 6:30 every morning. Sharp. I’ll be sound asleep but woken by the sound of her heavy tail. She gets between the wall and the bed:

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

I’ll finally moan or something:

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP!

It’s as if she’s thinking, “Oh my god! I’m about to get breakfast!
Get up! Get up! Get up!”

So, I climb out of bed and she’s prancing all around. She just about loses it when I put on my coat and get her leash.

“Oh my god! It’s really happening! I’m about to go outside, followed by breakfast!
Hurry up! Hurry up! HURRY UP!”

So, we go to the park a block away. The snow is a foot deep and it’s, like, ten degrees outside. I’ve taught her a “potty command” that works pretty well. I’ll say in a breathy voice, “Portia-go-potty! Portia-go-potty!”

Boom.
Mission accomplished.
The Eagle has landed.

She knows that breakfast follows, so we trot back to the house. Mayhem ensues as I scoop the food into her bowl.

Then, we head to the kitchen because her medication administration follows. The capsule gets wrapped in a piece of luncheon meat.

Chawmp!

The same routine occurs again at 5:00 pm, minus the meds. Then, at night (9:00 pm, sharp) she gets a treat: a handful of baby carrots tossed across the dining room. She’s an excellent catcher. Then, she get a beer. (She likes Miller Lite).

Afterward, we curl up together to watch Sex and the City reruns even though she has beer-breath. Portia loves Samantha but thinks Charlotte needs to be slapped. Hard.

Several times a day, I sing this little song for her and rub her belly.

I love my pup-
py, yes I do.
Because my pup-
py loves me too.
I rub her bel-
ly all the day.
She wags big tail
As if to say:

“I love my Un-
cle Buck, I do;
Because I know
He loves me too.
He rubs my bel-
ly all the day;
I wag my tail
As if to say”
Bark bark bark bark,
Bark bark bark bark.

I know that's silly, but it's awfully cute.

Here’s a pic of her waiting outside the kitchen in her "alligator pose." She’s not allowed in the kitchen, that’s where the food is, thus the anxious, forlorn expression.