I'm pretty certain that you guys can't tell time -- which completely explains why you get so excited when I return from the "trek" to the end of the driveway for the morning NY Times.
And while I know you adore your cedar-stuffed dog pillows and favorite spots on the couch, the yellow and black fleece blankets I plan on bringing for your kennel appear to be almost as cushy. Almost.
But I know you'll miss the early-morning lake-front walks. And sniffing your way through the forest opposite our house. And tooling around the backyard, trolling for squirrels, hoping that any one of the neighbors will show up with a bacon-flavord treat.
So how about this: You both agree to spend 10 days at the vet (while we sip pina-coladas on Kona), and I promise a home-coming filled with rawhides, a table-scrap or two and new "indestructible" toys.
Oh and I almost forgot. Yes, you'll get to go swimming the very day we pick you up.