Three Amigos

Spa Days catering gig is over and life is reverting back to normal (my version anyway).
Back to wearing cowboy boots.

This happens as frequently as Sasquatch sightings:  Jamie in a dress. 
This is why:

Because you can dress me up, but you CAN'T take me off the farm!


Back to having my posse of three amigos.

230 lbs of furballs, in a subcompact, heading to Auburn for the day. 
Cole in chemo, Garrett going in another direction and Pete and I waiting at the dealership for a new axle on the car.

I pack a comforter, reading material, water--we camp out on the floor in the waiting room.  Either it's his harness or the disheveled look of the squatter's camp, but three people ask me if Pete is my therapy dog.  The manager even comes to ask us if we need anything.  I think I'm onto something...maybe I should have had a change cup on the floor in front of us!
Shiny floors are Pete's nemesis.  We skip from carpet to carpet across the showroom floor, but he won't make the final stretch with me to the loo.  I'm desperate and my back already hurt from carrying his tiny 80 lb self across the lobby of the vet school, so I abandon him with a customer.

All in all, Pete gets a B+ for his first prolonged foray in town.  Room for progress, but passable for a pass to Maine.  Looks like the four of us are heading North to camp in Aroostook county, Maine for two weeks in September.  

Somebody earned himself a doggie sundae for good behavior!