Hello good readers. This is Tucker the Much Better Vizsla than Dennis. Lately there has been a lot of talk about my health problems, but I do still have my good days. This was one of them. It started when Mama and Dada were going to the garden center to buy some trees. I wanted to go with them and help pick plants.
Needless to say, Mama and Dada could hardly turn me down. After all, I’m old, and I don’t always feel well, so if I want to go out, they are morally obligated to take me.
Just me. Not Dennis or Trixie. Me.
Of course, I still have to wear that boot on my foot. It’s not a sign of infirmity; it’s a fashion statement.
It is just a short car ride to the nursery where they sell trees and pots and manure. It seemed to take longer to walk through the parking lot to the front door than it did to drive there. However, this could be because I slept in Mama’s lap for the whole drive.
I had almost forgotten how nice it is to go to the store and meet my adoring fans who are all there in the hope of seeing me.
It may look like we are being followed by an astronaut in a giant helmet, but that’s just Dada’s absurdly large hat casting an absurdly large shadow.
I helped Dada find the trees. And also a very interesting wooden post.
I make fun of Dada’s hat, but it really was quite bright that day, and Dada is well known to be pathologically allergic to sunlight. Obviously this is why he lives in Southern California.
We continued to wander amongst the plants. Note the continuing absence of Dennis.
I very much enjoyed being able to sniff around at leisure. You never know what you might discover hiding under a plant or a shrub.
Dada was pulling a cart the whole time, but he didn’t offer me a ride. Not cool, Dada.
Among the pots and bags and posts and whatnot, there was the occasional patch of ornamental grass. Being a civilized sort, I just looked.
One nice thing about being a small vizsla is that I can walk underneath tables without ducking. Tables often conceal food that has been dropped by people.
By now, due to the warmth, the bright light, the lack of getting to ride on that industrial style cart, and Dada’s inexplicable failure to think of buying some ice cream for me, Dada was beginning to get tired. Dada was, not me. I could have kept shopping for hours.
So it was back to the car with our new trees (a pear tree and a tangerine tree) for the short ride back to the house.
It may not have been the sort of trip I used to take, where we would go to the woods or the park and I would run and run for hours, but, sadly, Dada is just not up for that sort of thing anymore. Oh well. None of us is as young as we used to be, right Dada?
Except for Mama, of course.