Yesterday, Reagan was scheduled to spend a little quality time with my good friend Jenny. After a bit of confusion that could rival any classic comedy sketch (us going to her house, her coming to our house), we finally met up with Jenny at her house.
As soon as we walked in, Reagan followed her ears to find Ruthie, Jenny's golden retriever, in the back yard. "Doggie...doggie...doggie," was about all Reagan had to say for the first five minutes. Scott and I said our goodbyes and left Reagan (seemingly unmoved by our departure) in the caring, attentive hands of Jenny.
What you need to understand about Ruthie is that she's rather advanced in years--a senior citizen by dog standards. When we arrived a couple of hours later, Ruthie was resting at the far end of the fenced backyard, trying to recover from her time with Reagan. Reagan was now yelling, "Doggie! Doggie!" but Ruthie by this time had lost interest. Reagan had worn her out, running the length of the yard, chasing her in an attempt to pet/hug/grab her.
Unfortunatly for both Reagan and Ruthie, Jenny's younger, more energetic dog, Nestle, was quarantined in a kennel upstairs with a hurt leg. Reagan did go visit with him, but Nestle couldn't come out and play.
After play time, the four of us had dinner at Famous Dave's (a yummy BBQ joint), where Reagan was enchanted by the giant pig that traveled the restaurant, visiting with diners. Reagan would call, "Pig! Pig! Please!" (As in, "please come to my table!")
A good time was had by all, and Reagan--and, I'm sure, Ruthie--slept very well last night.
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