I drove to Bojangles this morning and let my dog, Blackie, go with me.
Hunter, my cat, was out front. All was well as I backed out of the driveway. I waved “goodbye” to Hunter and off we drove. Blackie is the perfect dog. She doesn’t bark (unless she whisper barks, which is creepy when she does it) and she has one spot in the car she stands while I drive. However, she does not like Hunter. A few years ago they got into a disagreement and I stuck my foot between them to make them cut it out. They each bit me on opposite sides of my ankle.
So all was well until I drove back home and was pulling into the driveway. “MOM!” meowed Hunter, as she jumped down from the porch to run to meet the car. “HUNTER!” growled Blackie as she stared out the car window.
“HONK! HONK! HONK!” went the car horn as I tried to summon help.
My youngest son finally came out. He picked up Hunter and held her while I got Blackie out of the car.
When Blackie was inside the house, and Hunter could be put back down, my son took his cup of coffee. “You didn’t drink out of this one, did you?” he asked.
I just looked at him. Did he think I’d let him take a cup of coffee I had already drank out of?
“No.” I told him and watched as he took a sip. “Blackie did slobber on it a little bit, though.”
As he stared at me in consternation, I giggled. “No, she didn’t,” I said.