|Feeling handsome, a tad preppy.|
In this photo, Sue says we look like we are in a band. I thought The Cheewas. She came back with even better ones: Lap Dog, Yap Dog, Gold Yappe.
Tiny Dog would be a great traveler in a band van. Look how comfy she is in my coat, strapped in under the seat belt.
When it gets warmer (I know it will), we will transition to riding shotgun in her cozy cat bed. Here she is last summer breaking it in on a trip to Minnesota.
|I am so pretty.|
Sue allowed her previously to hop in the driver’s lap in her truck, so half of the time she was in her bed, half on my lap. In town, it’s harder to drive with her on your legs because I have manual transition, and she does a lot of seesawing with the shifting. With spring still ahead, she can ride zipped in my vest, warm.
It’s mutual, our comforts of traveling so closely together. She fits in my coat and my pulse simmers down, and I let out a sigh. Whether I had a sad or hard or good day at work, it spills out of me the minute we sit in the car, her small body tucked tight against my chest.
She often falls asleep on the ten minute drive home, and I look down, oxytocin spilling into my blood and brain, and I just want to keep driving to elongate this moment, one + one.