Traveling alone I can do what I want even if I don’t know what that is. Of course the dogs have an opinion but I can veto their choice. We have a system. What’s really cute is how excited they get when I stop and give them the, “let’s go”  signal. Heck It’s probably a roadside viewpoint, where they stand around while I gawk at something far over their head or on the other side of a wall, but they don’t care. When they’re not going they take turns in the driver’s seat guarding the LT till I get back. When I pull into a campsite or a nice RV park (and it has to be a nice one, Mason knows the difference,) it’s like a big jackpot for the day, tails a wagging, heads at the window, shinning happy eyes–makes me feel special–like I did something wonderful. Then we go for our walkabout and I just know those two are telling everyone how they get to go everywhere and are treated like royalty along the way. Today, though, they had a fight, their first one. It was over two big milk bones I had broken into four pieces that someone had given me for the dogs when I was lost. She was giving me directions. The dogs don’t usually like milk bones and I don’t blame ’em. I thought they’d probably let them sit there. Instead I heard extreme growing, snarling, my darlings were looking like they wanted to kill each other. I was furious. There will be peace in our little home. I scared them both (and me) telling them quite loudly that in actuality I was the one who makes all the decisions including who should eat what. The two of them were shocked to see me so riled up. They were both shaking but I ignored it. A half-hour later we were all friends again. Hope they remember who’s boss.

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