Last night was not a ton of fun. The upshot is that my mother wants me to do something that will be my career (um, DUR. SO DO I.), my dad is just worried about me in general, and the two of them are doing a crap job at dogsitting because Duchess is definitely backsliding a bit. *lol*
After good dinner and some arguing, copious red wine, and ice cream, I crawled into an uncomfy guest bed to stay the night. This morning at an ungawdly hour, Duchess kicked up a fuss- she'd really messed her kennel. I cleaned her up, cleaned it up, and settled on the couch and let her chew on my fingers for a bit. Truth is, she's to young to be trained and the aunt and uncle aren't doing it right- her kennel is too big, and there's too much space in it for her to be grossed out by her own... output.
Dad came down and made coffee and amends. Mom can down and proffered olive branches.
Stepped on the dog- something you always think is going to happen with a dog that size. She's okay. Let her lick my face to make up for it. I call her "D" or "Leddy D" (like in Amelie).
We've reached an understanding, the three of us, so I think things will be fine. Just want to get things going because the sitting around is going to drive me mad. The good thing is that they are taking back the bed and the dresser and the chair- all furniture from my grands and great grands that I don't want to tote around with me and don't want to junk or sell.
At one point, Dad said, "I've always sort of felt like you were a California person." Which was nice. I hope I am, I really do.
FYT- puppy pics:
( PUPPEH. )