A Dog’s Life


Our vacation, from Gus’s point of view.

Because I have only a few more months to be that crazy dog lady, before I become that crazy baby lady. Fair warning: I’m going balls deep on this one. I even refer to Adam and I in the third person as “Mama” and “Papa” .

Please enjoy this anthropomorphized adventure through Gus’s eyes.

It began with a car ride. A long one. Four hours. I slept, farted, occasionally hung my head out the window and did that cool thing where I spontaneously shed half of my coat all at once all over every surface inside the car.

Mama gets all angry-excited when I do this, and every time we stopped somewhere she brought out the microfiber cloth soaked in vinegar to wipe everything down, and then Papa complained about her being something called “OCD” and talked loudly about the “gross vinegar smell” and said it hurt his throat. Mama called him over-dramatic and then he called her a word I didn’t understand and then she said that this was a “fine way to begin a vacation!” .

They squabbled in the hot car until I heard Mama repeating “Why didn’t we just get a turtle?!” over and over again.

We’re getting a turtle? Sweet!

(What’s a turtle?)


In between rides in the car we went on two ferries.


Then to the house with all of my kid-friends,  where I played with my buddy Finnegan. I didn’t know where Papa and Mama went, but my little girl friend gave me lots of treats and ice cream cones so I didn’t mind. I left her a few treats in the backyard.


They came back! I was overjoyed!


Then we went on another three hour car ride.


We visited Grandmummers on her floating house and hey! It’s Mawney! My biggest fan.


Papa was trying to get her to kiss me on the lips. Dooo it!

(She didn’t do it. It made me sad.)


We all napped.


Even this tiny dog and I. He doesn’t smell much like a dog and his bark sounds funny, I’m half scared, half in love.


One day we went to the beach where Papa threw sticks


and I swam


And then I drank half the ocean and peed it out my butt , vomited the rest of it and then drank some more and continued repeating this process over and over until Mama said it was getting embarrassing and made us leave the beach.

I didn’t feel well.


Later I leaked a bunch of salty anus water onto Grandma’s floor. I slept through the whole thing until Mama woke me up and shooed me outside and pretended it was drool and didn’t tell Grandma. (Oops. Hi Grandma!)

Forgive me?


After recovering from the ocean, we drove some more and then took another ferry.


And now we’re home! I’m tired, still pooping ocean water, but glad to be in my own bed.



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