The Inauguration and the Vet

This is Tahoe. He was completely unaware of Barack Obama's historic second inauguration today. He didn't vote. He doesn't even know he lives in the US. He's a dog. He's a very big dog.

Right here he's saying: "And why did you take me to the vet today where I wedged my 104 lb body under a chair so Dr. Johnson couldn't reach me? And why did we have to wait for 45 minutes? And why did I get three shots and a prescription for antibiotics? And why is Dr. Johnson so interested in what I eat? And what's with everyone being worried about my allergies and skin infection? And why does Dad call me a wuss?"

Yes, this is Tahoe. He's had a rough inauguration day. He was so upset about everything that after his photo shoot he threw up his breakfast which Rod ingeniously scooped off the hall carpet with the small snow shovel. And you thought snow shovels were only for snow! No, they are very versatile and ready for dog scooping of all kinds.

Tahoe is sacked out right now. He has no clue, nor interest, in Michelle Obama's gorgeous ball gown tonight. He doesn't care about what the President said this morning. He doesn't even care about what Dr. Johnson decided. He really doesn't care that I need to find a dog food with only one source of protein and one source of carb. Woe is me. But, he's my buddy and I love him.

In a few minutes, he'll sit up and look at me like this. He'll think, "And, why do I have to go outside in 5 degrees to do my business? I've had a really tough day, people!"

It's almost bedtime, Tahoe. Almost bedtime.