Washingtonian Magazine names Separation Anxiety and Beyond one of top-10 dog training businesses in the DC area.
Tracy Krulik, CTC, CSAT
Emma hijacked the MacBook. What could she have to say?
The Girl did that thing again where she goes in and out of the garage and then takes a really long time to come back in. I was bored, so I hijacked her MacBook to do some bloggin’.
This morning, after The Boy took me outside to do my biz and then put out a magnificent spread of food for me (raw duck… *drool*), I sprinted back upstairs to schnuggle in bed with The Girl. Oh it was nice. She was curled up in the puppy position, so I climbed on in and pressed my tush into her belly button. And then, SHE GOT UP! I flew through my breakfast and raced back to you, and you give me a lousy five minutes of schnuggle?!?
The Girl, The Boy, and I were walking through the quiet neighborhood yesterday morning. What. A. Sniff-fest. Folks have been putting down fresh mulch and even spreading compost on their lawns, and hoo-doggie does that sh*t smell good. And then it happened. Like spotting the Taj Mahal.
I’m just strutting along with my tail wagging tall, and I pick up the scent of… What? Mutton? No, lamb? Ah yes, tripe. There was a glistening mound of tripe-scented dog poop calling out to me.
I look up. Do they see it too? Can I get there before they notice?
Just as I’m almost able to sink my teeth on that lusciousness, The Girl does her voodoo on me.
“Leave it,” she says in that sickeningly sweet tone. Leave it. Two words I despise more than any other. I don’t know what happens to me — I’m like a brainwashed zombie. She says “Leave It,” and the next thing I know, my paws are prancing her way. Ok. So she does give me a couple of pieces of duck when I get to her, but is that an even exchange?
Dodo and Bozo finally figured out a few months ago that feeding me two times a day does not work with my delicate constitution. I would bark for hours each day starting at 1 p.m. to let them know that my blood sugar was dropping. DON’T YOU KNOW I GET HANGRY WHEN MY BLOOD SUGAR DROPS?!?
So they FINALLY began feeding me three times a day. It’s really done wonders for my singing voice, BTW. I am no longer hoarse from all of my mid-day bellows, and so I’ve been able to get back to work on my sequel to that hideous musical Cats. I’m still not sure what I want to call my opus, but I’m toying with Dogz.
So I get fed three times a day now: 6 a.m., noon, and 3 p.m. Everyone has a much more pleasant day if we just stick to that agreement. But do you know what happened yesterday? I was schnuggling up with my BFF The Frog and the next thing I knew, it was 3:02. THREE OH TWO!!!!!!
And The Girl was JUST walking into the kitchen to prepare my duck. How do I manage to live in this world?
Hark! What’s that I hear? Is that the garage door reopening? Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, arf arf arf! Tail, Don’t stop thumping now!!!! She’s here!!! The Girl is here!!!!!
It’s been wonderful rappin’ with you folks, but I have a mudroom to get to.
Did you hear the news? The. Girl. Is. Here!!!!
This separation anxiety thing seriously blows, but I’ll tell ya… There’s nothing in the world as good as the high that I get when they come home.