It’s been a busy week and it’s only Wednesday. In a phone conversation in my hotel room Monday night, I discovered that my husband also had to travel out of town for work (although not overnight). Then he revealed his plans for Honey!
He was going to take Honey with him to a day of meetings in a hotel. Honey, the wiggling love whore, was going to ride in the back of the car for over an hour with his very nice boss who usually wears black. (If you can’t guess, Golden Retriever and black clothing? A bad combination.)
I won’t go into any more details but that suggestion was quickly moved off the table.
The final decision? Honey would stay in the kitchen at home with the back door cracked open so she could visit the yard when necessary. She’d have plenty of toys and a big fat Kong to find after she finished her breakfast.
My biggest fear was of someone taking her out of the yard. But, since Honey’s not a barker, most people would walk by the house and never know she was there.
Of course, I knew my hostas were dead meat. Honey has started digging in them and I knew that with an entire day to fill and no one to supervise, they’d receive some rough, puppy treatment.
End result? All was well. My husband picked up Honey when he returned and brought her to my office when I returned so I could see with my very own eyes she was alive and well.
What about my hostas? Well, maybe they’ll come back next year.