It is unusually pleasant in Oklahoma for August and I love it!  I was off yesterday so I told Jake we should go visit his grandparents (aka my mom and dad), he just looked at me while I ate my breakfast sandwich wondering I guess when he would be getting his second treat.  I could use a little feedback from time to time when consulting with him but he only doles out his opinions in whines, perked ears or sad eyes but mostly blank stares.    As I put on his harness he got really excited knowing something was getting ready to happen!  He didn’t seem to care what, just that he was going to be in on it and it might involve going somewhere. Yippee!

I realized, on the way to Dad’s, when I reached Henryetta that I didn’t have the proper change for the toll gate so I made a quick lane change, turned onto Main Street and circled the block to head east on the county road that leads through the old familiar countryside where I grew up and eventually would take us to Dad’s house the “back way.”  I like to avoid the toll gate on the Indian Nation Turnpike anyway; they have remodeled the whole thing by dozing down the McDonalds (another reason to avoid the area, you can’t get any food there) and a busy convenient store.  Jake didn’t seem to mind the abrupt change in course, he was too busy biting his bed, it’s what he does when his anxiety makes a showing.  I told him to stop doing that and he just looked over his shoulder and gave me the blank stare as if he didn’t recognize his own name or my tone of voice.

It was evident that the neighborhood armadillos had paid Dad a visit the night before as we pulled up to his house.    His manicured lawn was riddled with holes.  Jake sniffed each one when I got him out of the car.  I’m sure he wanted to make sure that “Grandpa” was safe from the creatures while he was there anyway.  The three of us had a nice visit, we had some lunch, Jake steadily paced the floor and I had to fix a few things on Dad’s phone.  He warned me that the toll gate might not work properly but said I could call the number posted where you drop your money and they wouldn’t send me a ticket.  I hadn’t told him that I didn’t have the correct change because I knew he would give it to me.

More times than not when passing through the new attendant-free toll booths on number 9 highway they won’t give you the green light, but they love to give you the red light and loud bell ringing if you continue on your way after dropping your money in the thing.  Taking this route before the big renovation was always a pretty pleasant experience, there were friendly attendants glad to make change for you and tell you to have a great day.  Now here I am preferring to drive my new car on a dusty pig trail of a road just to avoid the whole scene.

We said bye to Dad and struck out on the “back way” towards Henryetta and Mom’s house.   I had turned Jake’s bed sideways before we left because he kept hanging over the edge while he was biting it.  Once we were back on highway 75 I had to make a quick turn across traffic just north of town to make my way to Wilson Road and to Mom’s.  I guess it caught Jake ill prepared and he got dumped in the floor head first.  While he righted himself I pulled over, got out and rushed over to put him back in his bed.  He wouldn’t look at me the rest of the way.

Jake’s “Granny” was glad to see us.  She didn’t know we were coming because my  phone doesn’t like the cell towers around that area and I hadn’t called her before we left Okmulgee.  Jake and Lucy (Mom’s miniature Dachshund) sniffed each others butts, but that was the end of their friendly interaction.  Mom banished Lucy to her crate because she got a little gruff with Jake and Granny wasn’t having any of that!

Jake made round after round on the kitchen floor as we gabbed, pondered new recipes, and I fixed a few things on her phone.  She had 6 calendars up on her home screen! What gives, Mom?  She didn’t know.  There was an extra messaging app I had to get rid of too.  We laughed and she reminded me that at least her and Dad could provide me with plenty of fodder for my stories.

As we walked out to the driveway Jake had strolled on ahead of us and was under the car.  I told him it was time to tell Granny bye but he just stood there peering out at me reluctant to move from his spot.  Surely he wasn’t still mad about getting dumped in the floor.  Finally after several mini steps he came out and we headed home.

Randy had beat us to the house and we sat out on the patio enjoying the nice breeze while Jake continued his pacing about.  I asked him if he wanted to go inside and rest, nothing.  Surely he could understand the word “inside” of all words, it’s his favorite place to be after all!

Randy and I had a lighthearted discussion last weekend about Jake and his seemingly inability to understand us.  He suggested that maybe Jake only understands German.  While we were in Manitou Springs, Colorado with Jake last year we noticed a cute store front window that had a doormat with a Dachshund on it.  Closer inspection revealed the word Dachshund at the top and “German for pain in the —-” at the bottom.  That certainly describes Jake to a tee!  So Randy looked down at Jake in his bed and said “Frankennuggen.” He doesn’t speak any German, he made it up hoping to recruit some kind of response but it didn’t work.  We have come to the conclusion that Jake must have selective comprehension.  We can prove this; after careful experiments we can simply say the word “treat” and his ears perk and he looks like a little puppy again.  Enough said.