A Week of Lucy: I Hope These Boxes Don’t Mean they’re Sending Me Back!

<Lucy wrote this post in November, while we were moving.>

Things are looking pretty hairy from where I sleep on the couch (no dog pun intended there – though I could use a haircut). The humans I live with are putting all of their possessions in boxes and things are starting to disappear. It’s starting to worry me… what if my purple bunny or my squeaky fox are next?

I guess as long as they don’t box up my toys or my treats I’ll be ok, but I’m still a little worried. I really hope that if they’re moving they’re going to take me with them. I’ll be super good just so long as they don’t send me back to Korea. I don’t know if you know this… but they have potato chips that taste like me over there. I’m not excited about my prospects there.

I’m going to be super cute this week and wag my tail extra hard so that they’ll take me with them!

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Don’t Worry, They Didn’t Deport Me

This past Wednesday, my worst fears seemed to be confirmed as the human I call dad spirited me away in the yellow death machine.

With all of the boxes being packed and things disappearing, I wasn’t sure what to think. I could only hope I wasn’t destined to return to Korea… to become a part of a bag of dog flavored potato chips.

Luckily dad dropped me off at grandma’s house which is kind of awesome – she’s very heavy handed with the treats and lovin’s. And I get to play with my good friend Dixie. She’s all kinds of awesome. Unfortunately, though, it also means that I have to play with Molly. Molly is… well, she’s a special dog. I think my mom calls her "high strung" though sometimes she calls her other things too....

I spent most of my visit keeping Molly from being mean to Dixie, when I wasn’t chasing ducks that like the lake out behind grandma’s house.



On Saturday, Mom and Dad came back to get me thankfully – I was about ready to pounce on Molly and give her a what fore – but they didn’t take me home… well, not to the old home. They brought me to this strange smelling apartment which meant that I had to rub my face on all sorts of things just to get rid  of it.  Mom was pretty worried that I’d freak out about the elevator, but elevator schmelovator… at least I’m not potato chips!