The puppies' mommy and daddy are coming home today.
But I think the kids have forgotten who they are and would be perfectly happy living with me and Justin.
So I'm going to kidnap them. We'll move to Georgia. No one will ever find us.
Nah, Georgia has a terrible problem with flies... and this little attitude issue about race and homosexuality that would really stress me out.
Perhaps I'll just move in here. We'll change the locks before they get back, I'll move the truck (the primary form of transportation for the puppies, which I have grown to enjoy driving immensely), and they'll just have to find somewhere else to live.
I'm sure that would work.
I even know where they keep the toilet paper. I could live here problem free.
OK, fine. I'll just go back to being Aunty Olaina who only gets to see the puppies once a day and doesn't get to take them to the beach or the park whenever we want to go there.
Who cares that Stan will only eat his breakfast/dinner (same food) if I'm sitting next to him? Or that he practically crawled through the truck window when we had to stop by my house to give something to Justin?
Somehow these dogs are owned by these other people who also own this home. I'm just the crazy Aunty who has pictures of them up in her house. Who talks about them every day... even writes about them on her blog....
At least I'm not A Cat Lady.
And it's not like I'll have to move to Florida by myself and only visit them when I am invited back. I have a standing breakfast date with them. Sure, they're "parents" have custody on the weekends, but maybe now and then, just before I have to get my car washed, I'll steal them away to some where like Disneyland... or the park. Or maybe even the beach.
I could never be a foster mom. I'd adopt them all. We'd have mismatched Andersons running all over our house. And we'd have dogs. And Yaz and Stan could come visit whenever they wanted to play.