Where, Oh Where ...

I bought you a $40 bed that you have sniffed but will not sleep on (you much prefer the warmth of Jack's little trundle bed). Your food is about $16 per bag (the small one!). I've taught you to sit, stay, heel, shake and jump through a hula-hoop. I bought you those peanut butter biscuits from Trader Joe's that smell so good that even I'm tempted to eat. We throw the ball. We take walks. I sneak you a few "people" scraps. We cuddle at night. I talk to you in a sweeter tone than I use on the ones I gave birth to.

So, why are you wanting to spend your days in the neighbor's yard?

I guess I'm going to have to resort to doggie daycare (just in case I'm not already spending enough on that) or hire a dog walker like some Yuppie from the Upper East Side. I have to make a living, Olive. Children must be educated. I know you miss us, but can't you just nap, chase squirrels and, heck, even dig a hole or two? I'd be fine with that if I knew it would keep me from having to leave work mid-morning to profusely apologize to the neighbor for the extra house guest.

Truth be told, the neighbor seems to enjoy the visits, but I can't take the guilt.

Any tips out there, fellow dog owners?