It's the Sunday after Thanksgiving. After stuffing not only our bellies with delicious food but also our souls with delightful company and laughter galore, we literally stuffed ourselves into the family SUV to begin the trek back to home, sweet Maryland. There was no doubt we were packed to the gills. Gammie, Poppy, Great Aunt Jan and Great NannyLuv are always spoiling Baby C with new toys and clothes that often times, we need to pack an extra empty duffel just to bring home his loot! This visit was no exception.
So there we are, all packed up and ready to go. It wouldn't be a visit home without stopping for our requisite brown bag (or 3) of New Jersey bagels on the way out, so after hugs and kisses all around, we backed out of the driveway and headed out to the nearest bagel shop. It's just after 7am and we were making great time. Heaven knows that post-Thanksgiving traffic is not somewhere you'd want to be with a 4 month old!
Several minutes into our ride, my heart nearly drops into my stomach and I turned to Mike and say, "Um. honey? Did you pack the sheepdog?" Several minutes. I already knew the answer. And just like that, my phone rings.
"Uhhhh. Did you forget someone?"
We had forgotten to pack the sheepdog. With tears streaming down my face (half from laughing so hard, half from suddenly realizing what a terrible, awful thing we did) I answer my Dad, "Umm. I can't believe we forgot the dog. We're turning around now!"
Wearing his leash, Sullivan had taken his place on the floor next to the front door as if to say, "This happens a lot. This is what it feels like to be forgotten." Oh, just rip my heart out and jump all over it.
Consumed with motherly guilt, I jumped out of the car and ran to the front door. Tail a' wagging, Sullivan greeted me as if it were any other outing. He immediately led me to the car, the tail end of the car to be exact, and waited patiently for the hatch to open.
Once I had lifted him into the car, all 103 pounds of him, I smothered him with kisses and whispered in his ear, "I'm so sorry Sheepie. We won't ever forget you, ever again."
We forgot the sheepdog. Weforgottopackthesheepdog. Ugh. I'm ashamed.
You can bet your lunch money that Sheepie got table scraps AND a spoonful of ice cream after dinner that night. Go ahead, I earned it. I'll accept the award for Worst Furbaby Mother of the Month.