I’m Not Allowed to Look

Hey, It’s Jet Here.

Well, I’m sort of here.  Mom said I can’t see today’s post.  She said she will handle the information.

Jet, take the day off –

  • it’s Sunday,
  • you’re clean from yesterday’s spa day,
  • you stole 4 of Rachel’s vanilla cupcakes, (Mooommm… she left the container open)

Hey, It’s Jet’s Mom Here.

I didn’t have the heart to tell Jet the following yet.  First, please read this post.

Last night, Jet stood by the gate section of the fence, waiting for a sound, any sound to acknowledge that Patches would hear his goodnight bark.  I hope the new neighbors have a dog(s).

Another great day… so far.

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Patches – Girl of Mystery

Hey, It’s Jet Here.

Whether our walks include members of the pack, or simply Koko, Mom and I (now just Mom and I), we try to switch up the routes to prevent boredom.  In the evenings, I tend to suggest exiting the house to the left.  Somehow, I know she’s there, the mystery girl, the girl behind the fence.  Technically, she lives six houses away from me, around the curve of our street, on the corner of a really busy intersection.   Mom says Patches, (a beautiful English Setter), lives with her humans, Pete and Carol, retired school teachers.  Years ago, before I joined the family, Pete told Mom that Patches received special training to hunt birds and spent months at a time in the Carolinas practicing.

I’ve tried EVERYTHING to have a date with Patches.  Mom says the situation reminds her of Romeo and Juliet.  When we approach her house, I empty my tank a little to let her know I’ve arrived.  I pace back and forth to see whether she is outside, lingering, hoping for a moment, a peak, a hint, something.  If she speaks to me, oh, that melodious bark… well then I race with Mom (and Koko until recently) in tow up and down the sidewalk barking sweet nothings.  I jump proudly showing off my agility and determination to get her to like me.  If only the dreaded WOODEN FENCE would disappear, I could catch a glimpse of my mystery girl!    Mom repeatedly asks Pete if I can meet Patches, but, alas, no luck to date.  Pete gently changes the subject.  No one in the neighborhood has ever seen Patches other than in the backyard, so, we try not to take it personally.

 About three weeks ago, on one of our first walks after my sister crossed the Rainbow Bridge, we rounded the curve towards Patches’ house.  I’m writing the next bit because Jet would not understand the implications of what I saw.  A blue and white, Coldwell Banker FOR SALE sign stood like a mini flagpole on Pete’s lawn.  My heart sunk and I realized Jetty would never meet his mystery crush.  I decided to keep this to myself and allow him to enjoy the remaining time giving chase.  A little mystery here and there spices up our lives.  We had a quick, noisy visit on the outbound portion of the walk.  Oh, I forgot to tell you, when we pass by on our way back home, I pause beside the small angled piece of the fence to say goodnight Patches, even if she has already retired for the evening.  That’s just the kind of guy I am, gentlemanly, debonair, with a goofy fun side, who could resist?