A couple of days ago I told you about the dogs wanting a car ride. All they wanted was a car ride. Yesteday, same deal, but they wanted to go for ice cream. I swear, when we think they’re sound asleep on our bed, really, they are whispering, planning, scheming.
Anyway, we’ve had a busy day, long walks, a swim , a hot tub, Marilyn worked on her latest painting, I did some maintenance on the coach and it’s about three oclock. Then they start. Honest to God, they are chanting “Ice Cream, Ice Cream”. At first I think it’s better than barking but then they get Marilyn going, so now there’s three of them “Ice Cream, Ice Cream, Ice Cream”.
So, off we go heading to a Dairy Queen. Not the closest Dairy Queen, oh no, because for the dogs it’s all about the ride. Not for Marilyn though, she really does want ice cream. There is no question; we’re not just going some where. We are going for ice cream.
While Marilyn is enjoying her Chocolate Pecan mini Blizzard, I’m loving my Cookie Dough small Blizzard, the dogs are figuring out how long a ride home they get. Everybody’s happy.
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Look at me: Gourmet dining critic and Consumer advocate all in one day.
Now the dogs are talking about finding a ghost town called Sage.
Charles M. Schulz.