Monday, July 7 – Dictated by Sir Peanut, First of His Name

It’s a big day. Mom is running around getting ready for an epic journey—a long, snackless journey, I suspect—but I am going to Becky’s house. I love Becky. Her lap is stable. Her knee is dependable. She smells like love. I plan to spend the day curled up on her like a little emperor. Of course, Brutus will try to act like he owns the place, but I will simply ignore him. I am elegant. I am refined. I do not bicker (unless it’s for a treat).

The backyard there is also different. New smells! It’s like traveling to another country where the squirrels don’t know your name yet. I intend to patrol it thoroughly and leave a few notes (pee-mails) for the locals.

Emma, meanwhile, is off to meet a human named Katelyn at a restaurant—something Mexican, which probably means she’ll come home smelling like cilantro and betrayal. Then they’re going to McCormick’s Creek, which is a park I’ve never seen (and was not invited to). After that, she says she’s going to visit Joel. So yes, it’s a full day for her. I’ll be waiting by the door at Becky’s. I always do. Even when I’m napping, I’m kind of waiting.

Yesterday was perfect. Just us. No visitors. No car rides. Just slow walks, pruning (which means I supervised while Mom did green things), and that weird thing she does with the glue and scissors—scrapbooking. I don’t really get it, but it makes her happy, so I lay nearby and looked important.

Anyway, it rained last night, which means Emma doesn't have to garden this morning. I like the smell of rain on grass. It makes the world feel softer, quieter.

I hope she has a good day. I hope her belly feels better. I hope Brutus knows his place. And most of all, I hope she comes home to me soon.