Jack isn’t happy today. I brought my suitcase upstairs to begin packing, and Jack knew something was up right away.

“Are we going to see Grandma in Montreal?” he asked.

“No, no, we’re not Jack,” I replied. I saw a shadow pass over his eyes but he sat quietly for a pause before he said,

“Are we going all the way to the east coast?”

“No, Jack,” I said. “Just mummy is going away this time. I’m going to Mexico with Aunt Janet.”

I know Jack doesn’t like it when I’m away, so I’ve been keeping the trip quiet. I didn’t want to spoil more days than necessary.  Typically, Jack is very zen, and he doesn’t often get emotional, but I heard a catch in his voice as he asked,

“How long will you be gone, mummy?”

“13 days, Bubba. We’re going to pack up Aunt Janet’s house because she’s sold it. And since we’ll be near to it, Aunt Janet and I are going to go to the beach, so I can see the Pacific Ocean. I’ve only seen it in pictures,” I said.

“13 days is a long time! And you’re going to the beach without me! I’ve never seen the Pacific Ocean either.” He was starting to sound a bit petulant.

“I know, it sucks, Bubba. I wish you could come with me, but you’d need to fly on an airplane, in a crate, away from Mummy, and I know you wouldn’t like that.” We’d had this same conversation when I went to Russia.

“I would be afraid of that….” then a longish pause and, “How far away is Mexico and the Pacific Ocean? Is it as far away as the east coast? Is the ocean as big as our ocean?”

“It’s a lot farther away, Jack. If we drove, it would take almost a week to get there.”

“A whole week. That’s really far away.”

“Yup, and it’s bigger than our ocean, which is the North Atlantic Ocean. A lot bigger. The Pacific is the biggest ocean on the entire planet. Here, let’s sit down with the Atlas, and I can show you. After that, I’ll show you pictures of where I’m going.”

And so we spent the rest of our afternoon looking at maps and pictures and talking about my trip. Eventually, I started packing, and Jack got quiet again. Finally, he said,

“I’m going to miss you mummy, and it isn’t fair for you to go to the beach without me, but… I hope you have a good time, and I hope you bring me home a nice present. Maybe something that smells like the beach. Also, Mummy, I don’t think you should take those shoes. You’re clumsy in those shoes. And you’ll trip if you wear the Palazzo pants. What else have you put in there?”

Sheesh, why do men always think they can comment on a woman’s clothing?”

 

 

It’s always challenging to get decent photos of Jack when we’re on a walk. To begin with, he usually walks ahead of me, which is better than behind me because I can see what he’s doing, but it means I get a lot of bum photos. Secondly, Jack doesn’t like to pose, so if I stop and make a point of taking his picture, he gets restless and wanders away before I can focus, or he resents that I won’t let him walk away, and he refuses to look at me. I can usually snap one or two photos before he gets too irritable, but today Jack simply wouldn’t let me get a nice picture of him, no way, no how.  Here he is this morning, studiously surveying a tree growing in the distance, which is obviously more compelling than me. It didn’t help that I’d given Jack the last cookie in my pocket about 10 minutes before this and he knew it. I called him as sweetly as I could, “Hey Bubba. Look at me. Bubba… Bubbs. Over here, look at me, Jack. Look at me. Jack… Bubba… Bubbs. I’ll stop at Tim’s on the way home (which is Canadian for coffee and donuts), I’ll share an old-fashioned plain with you.” Nope, Jack wasn’t having any of it today. Apparently, the promise of a donut is not a good enticement, especially if you don’t have a milk bone handy to back it up. So, no smiling Jack today. But, if you look closely on Jack’s side, just above his Rt. hip, you can see Lenny the Lump. Lenny is the brother to Larry the Lump, who was removed from Jack’s armpit several years ago, and Lenny’s starting to get big. This is the first time I’ve been able to see him in a photo, but unlike the armpit, he has plenty of room to grow on Jack’s side and will probably never have to be removed. Labs are prone to getting fatty cysts, and Jack has a few other smaller ones on his chest and neck, but they aren’t large enough yet to warrant a name. Lenny is now about the size of an orange and is still growing, but the only time it bothers Jack is when the vet or I palpate it, and that’s only because he thinks it’s weird that we’re squeezing him there. I understand that; I’d think it was weird if someone cupped their hand and squeezed me in that spot, too. The vet did try to explain it once to Jack, but he heard the word “fatty” and thought the Dr. was telling him to lose weight again and stopped listening. Yep, I understand that too, Jack.

Just a pretty picture today.