Yesterday? Oh, I had a fabulous time, thank you very much.

This is me at the festival at Broad Ripple Park. I had my festival blanket and my festival pillow. Not to mention my Natural Life  Cooler full of snacks and drinks.

 

Yesterday? Oh, I had a fabulous time, thank you very much. Emma kept herself busy “teaching” and making pie and curry—all while staying home where I could supervise. Did I get on camera a few times? Yes, I did! We all know the kids are only there to see me. I popped my face up, and the yells started. “PEANUT! It’s PEANUT! We love you, Peanut!!” She introduced me to the new kids who hadn't seen me before. She had 200 students come back this year. It’s me. All me. Thank you.

Then Eric showed up—my third-favorite human (after Emma and Joel, obviously). The real excitement began when Benny arrived. Oh, I lit up like the sign on my California hotel. I heard his name, and I was ready for action. While Eric was upstairs, I decided to show Benny who runs this joint—I gave him the ol’ proud-Chihuahua-dachshund dominance hump. It’s an art form, really. Back in the day, I practiced on Skye all the time, though I could only reach her tail.

Naturally, Benny and I had a competitive pee-off in the yard—true athletes in the sport of territory marking. I won, of course.

We had dinner, then all of us headed to this “concert in the park” thing. I assumed it was going to be a glamorous soirée, Beverly Hills–style, but no—just people sitting on blankets, eating pie and hiding their beer from the cops. Very rebellious. I approved.

At the concert, Benny was unimpressed with the whole “sit in the park” thing, but I took my security duties very seriously. Dogs kept showing up. People too. Suspicious. I made sure everyone knew we were on high alert. My human told me she took me home early to “protect the house,” but I know it was because I was going to get us busted. You see, we hadn’t bought tickets—we were sneaking around the perimeter, hidden by the dark. Well, mostly hidden… except for my very noticeable voice.

I didn’t mind—I got to lounge in my estate (okay, her house) while they listened to Sixpence None the Richer, The Jayhawks, and Toad the Wet Sprocket. My human said The Jayhawks were incredible—all Americana grit and harmony. Sounds fine, but do they sing about chihuahuas with California hotels? No? Then I’m not that interested.

Oh, and apparently Toad the Wet Sprocket slept in the park in tents the night before. We saw them that morning, and I thought, “Hmph. Why do they get to camp here and I don’t?” Probably because if I tried, the park police would come running. Fame has its downsides.