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~Monday~ This weekend, I babysat (some people would call it dog-sitting, but the daddy to these kids refers to it as babysitting, and I respect that) for Vincent and Frances.

Here they are enjoying the beach:
Vincent on the left. Frances on the right.

Bob left at oh-dark-hundred on Friday morning, and I arrived at his house at about 3:00, and shortly after that I took Vincent and Frances on a (very hot) walk.

We went out again the next morning when it was much cooler, and we passed people in Bob's neighborhood that know him well, and know Vincent and Frances well, and a couple of them spoke to me along our way.

When we got back, I sat with them and took dictation, asking them to describe their walk to their daddy. This is what the precious little devils came up with:

Dear Daddy,

We had a good walk this morning. Mr. John actually knows what a "leisurely" walk means, so we took our time and got to sniff, and pee on, everything we normally do. It was also nice to walk in 75-degree weather this morning, much more so than our previous one in the mid-90s when he got here mid-yesterday afternoon.

We did our duty as expected, with one of us (the gentleman) making a one-time deposit and the other one of us (the lady), stopping for two dainty deposits, with one of those toward the beginning of the walk and the other one toward the end - the "back end" if you will.

We passed that older man with the two terriers that we know so well, thus no real conversation, just a little sniffing as we reached each other. As we approached them, the man said to Mr. John, "We know these guys," indicating us.

Shortly after that, a young man with no shirt on, an incredible body, and an iPod band around his bicep came running by. We could have swore we saw Mr. John looking at the thick black hair that was poking out from under the runner's arms, but that's just too weird to think any more about. With that said, we really didn't think he ogled him for any more amount of time than we've seen you look at hot, young, shirtless men running through the neighborhood.

Next, just after Miss Susan and Miss Karen's house, who weren't outside by the way, although we noticed Mr. John wave at the kitchen window just in case there was anyone on the other side of it, we came upon a young woman pushing a stroller and texting at the same time.

She said hello, and Mr. John asked, "Do you know these dogs?"

She said she wasn't sure, and Mr. John said, "Oh okay. I'm babysitting them and everybody seems to know them."

"I'm pretty sure I've seen them before, but I can't remember their names," she replied apologeticaly.

Well that makes us even, because we don't remember her name either.

Our last encounter was with that woman with that wolf-like dog, maybe 40 or 50 pounds with some tan, but mostly dark brown fur. She's an older lady, and we're pretty sure she had her long, wiry, blondish hair pulled back in a ponytail. When she noticed us coming, she took her dog out into the road, evidently anticipating the loud conversation he was going to have at us.

Which did happen. We gave him just enough back to remind him that we can hold our own, and then we moved on.

Just before getting back to the house, after Mr. John deposited our deposits into the dumpster by those yellow apartments, we barked at two guys who had huge bags over their shoulders that they were taking from one of the apartments and putting into the trunk of a vehicle.

However, we suddenly realized that we were just about home, and carried on with the business of getting back to the treat jar. Life is good here. We hope you are having a lot of fun. We miss you terribly.

Your boy Vincent and your girl Frances

And of course, daddy wrote back:

dear kids,

thanks so much for the account of your walk. sounds like it was pretty much business as usual.

i know you are, as i am, so grateful to "Mr. John" for taking such good care of you guys. we are so lucky! we will have to let him know if he ever needs anything we will help him out too.

we all hope his back feels better.

your daddy

ps Mr Tom (maggie, toffee, and betsy's dad) that "older man" is 55

That "ps" is funny, of course, because "Mr. Tom" is almost exactly my age, and well, you see how I described him. Bless the difference between how old I "think of myself as" versus how old I really am.



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