A storm was rolling in this afternoon, so Bobby suggested a run.
"Good idea, Buddy. Maybe we--"
"A good one!" he snorted. "I'm so tired of sniffing these same old sidewalks you keep walking me round and round."
My shoulders sagged and felt bad immediately. "Aw, they're great walks, Uncle Davy! But remember our big adventures when I was a little pup?"
I knew it was important to him, because he avoids that pup word. (Sore subject, but that's for another time.)
I smiled again, and he ran to get his leash. "And if I'm going to be holding onto this shit for 24 hours, I better start the storm on an empty tank," he said.
(Rain was predicted till 4 am, and he's not going out then! Bobby doesn't poop in the rain. He rarely pees either, though sometimes I can coax him that far if it slows to a drizzle for awhile. I'm cool with that. Doggy's choice. He can set his own priorities. He's very disciplined and never lets go on the floor.)
"Let's pause and check out the construction workers," he said. "And maybe pose for an IG pic--you haven't shared a shot of me this whole visit. Have u thought one time about all my corgifans?"
Bobby is very concerned with his image, but word has it he was also looking for an excuse to rest. He's put on a few pounds, and can't run like his young corgi days. But still impressive, for little legs.
He muttered something about recalling certain uncles with more zip in their step too, but I couldn't make it out.
"No pictures!" I reminded him. I hadn't showered, writing in my sweatpants, still had afternoon bedhead.
"Dude! Check your pocket," he moaned. "I've seen you pull a ski cap out of that jacket a zillion times."
"Oh right. Smart corgi."
He had me snap the pic. It ruins his silhouette with a paw up in the air, he says. He says that every time. I know he can't work the iphone, but I go along.
He waited till the last second and turned to show off his good side. He said when you twist that way, it's slimming--shows off your abs. No comment.
We ran down past the Lincoln Tunnel and back up to Port Authority. Bobby is wary of the street people around there. Doesn't trust them and he can sniff them a block away.
But he was determined to go inside. There's an automated revolving door that he kept trying to get caught in, couldn't understand why I kept pulling him back.
(This is not the revolving door, obviously, but another entrance he was eager to go in. It's a still from a video. I'll try to post that somewhere soon.)
We ran into Nick, our barber, on the way home. (Much more slowly. Tired little corgi, and uphill.) Nick loves Bobby, but turned out a little sheepish on giving him a treat. Dropped it and whipped his hand away when Bobby lunged for it. "Bad incident," he said. Oh, sorry, Nick. Bobby felt bad. But he loved the treat!
We got home and Bobby sniffed out a spot on the "new" carpet, that came from mom and dad's.
He loves lying there, reminds him of them. I think he's dreaming of them right now.