“It’s time to go Maddie. Let’s go.”
“Lucy, you can’t keep her. I have to take her home.”
“Sammy, you too. She’s got to go home.”
This stand off happens every time we hit up our second home. Every time I lend them my peanut, I feel like I’m stealing her to bring her back home.
I get stared down. There are eye rolls. There are huffs. There are puffs. There’s even some standing in my way, posturing.
Never have a pair of eyes bored so deeply into my soul triggering a tidal wave of guilt within me. Before I shudder a bit, without letting on, and remind myself that this is ridiculous. I am the grown-up and she is my child.
I find myself being thankful that they can’t talk despite their effective arguments.
They are dogs after all.