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Hollywood here I come 9/27/2011 9:32:20 AM
Sandy Steele's dog Susie says
Dreaming California
Sandy decided to take me on a trip back to her home in California for a vacation. I didn't know what she meant by that, because my work takes place in rippling streams, blue lakes and lush beautiful forests in the mountains around here. It's a rough job but somebody has to do it.
So we get to the airport in Atlanta where I understand more people and dogs fly out of it, than just about anyplace in the world. I wonder what first class is like? After checking in and then going through some line where strangers pick and poke your body, I'm ready to leave already. Then the bad news hits.
At the gate, mom is told that there is a weight limit for dogs to fly with the humans. It's 35 pounds. Now, Sandy has been feeding me nutritious dietary food all my life, so it shouldn't be a problem. However, she doesn't know that sometimes I go next door to Dusty's house and eat his food, while he is chasing a ball that I manage to toss down a hill. The nice lady at the gate takes me to a room and weighs me; 38 lbs. and now I'm dead.
Sandy does her best job of pleading, but to no avail. Seems the nice lady was actually feeling like a rag or something, or so my mom muttered. They brought out a cage with wires all around it and started to put me in it. Sandy's crying, but I manage to communicate that it's all right and not to worry. A few minutes later I'm down in some kind of “hold” in the plane and guess what; there's all kinds of dogs and cats down here with me. So, I decided to to make the best of the situation and plan a little party for all of us while we're flying for the next 5 hours. The dogs love the idea but the cats would rather sleep.
Somehow, we all soon fell asleep and when I awoke, we were in the LA airport which looked like some kind of spaceship. People were running around speaking in languages I couldn't understand. We then manged to get in something called a cab, and the driver also spoke in a language I didn't understand. Shortly, we arrived at a huge pink building, called “The Beverly Hills Hotel.” We checked in and then were escorted somewhere in the back, to a smaller hotel called a “cottage.” Sandy gave the nice man something, maybe a treat, for bringing our bags to the cottage. Dog tired, we both got into bed and fell asleep. “Tomorrow... will be another day!”
Catch you later,
Susie and Sandy
P.S. If your dog is fat, then you're probably not getting enough exercise. And never trust your dog to watch your food...if you're exercising without them.
