They’re sitting there. Watching me. Three brown eyes and one electric blue eye. They know what my running shoes and beat up purse mean, and their tails wag with excitement. But I have a dilemma: I can only bring one dog. Rosie, our elderly golden retriever can hardly handle the heat in the house (even with our central air conditioning), and so there’s no question that a run in the summer would be too much for her. But Rosie also deserves my undivided attention more than our young, precocious husky-lab mix (we call her our Sibrador Labradusky–much cooler sounding than a Cockapoo or Goldendoodle if I may say so myself) and I can’t stand the idea of hurting Rosie’s feelings by leaving her behind. 
Rosie, the elderly Golden
So this is where I have to get tricky. First I back the car out of the driveway and park it in front of the house–this is a break from routine, and Rosie will be less likely to suspect that we’re leaving if I take Emma out the front door. Then I sneakily slide the leash out from its place near the front door (it’s important that Emma doesn’t notice this because any mention of the leash makes her very excited, and if she starts running around the house like a maniac it’ll give the entire gig away) and shove it in my purse. Next to the bathroom. I shut the door behind me and flush the toilet–in hopes that the sound of the water running will mask the crinkle of the grocery bag as I dump out a mass of hair ties stored within and introduce it to the leash in my bag. Poop bags also make Emma very excited, and so it imperative that she doesn’t catch sight of it. The last step is to sit on the couch.
Emma, the Sibrador Labradusky with her two differently colored eyes
So I sit and I type, feigning complete concentration on my computer. Rosie pants at my feet (she spent the morning following me around the house–that’s a lot of exercise for an old dog), and Emma has sprawled out under the coffee table. I wait, listening intently to the sound of Rosie’s heavy breathing. Finally, with a low groan, she stops her panting to rest her head on her golden paws. That’s when I take action.
I stand up, and Emma, who’s always on top of all the movement in the house, rises with me. Together we tiptoe to the front door and sprint out, my keys jingling in my bag. Emma pauses to allow me to open the passenger door for her, and then we are off, headed for the cool green paths of the park.
Unfortunately, this time we don’t get off scot-free. As I pull away from the curb, I turn to glance guiltily back at the house and see Rosie with her big black nose pressed up against the glass of the front door, her dark eyes sad.
Sorry Rosie. I promise I’ll take you for walk when it gets cooler out tonight. Just me and you, no pesky Labradusky to bother us.
Feathery Thoughts 