I asked Abby that on our way to church, as that’s when I write Sundays blog post, apparently. She said Archie, so that’s what I’ll write about. Yesterday we left him for a few hours to go to a pretty lackluster fall-festival in Cabot where there was nothing but cheese and alcohol samples. Shortly after we left we realized we had left a plate of chicken accessible to him o the counter. His having gone much, much further out of his way in the past to get things like butter or chips from the counter, we assumed that the chicken would be gone by the time we got back.

That was not the case, because he is a perfect boy.

Though not perfect enough to not fight the new baby gate we put up with such ferocity that it had specks of blood and had nearly torn the trim from the wall it was attached to. I don’t really understand that, because he can just jump over it. He must just have taken his anger out on it, his frustration with being alone.

And he’s alone again left as he always is while we go to church o Sunday mornings. Usually I don’t go on a walk with him either, because we gotta leave early and I don’t like to feel rushed on my morning walk with Roby, though sometimes I am.

Yesterday on the walk, towards the end, we saw two women walking with two dogs. Archie doesn’t like it when there’s more than one dog, he turns right around. He might be scared, though when he was attacked it was by a single, small-to-medium sized dog, I suppose he just reckons that if there were two of them then he’d be in real trouble.

Anyways when we saw those people we turned right around and walked at a rushed clip so they would’t overtake us.

I doubt he’ll get a walk when I get back, but he’ll hang out outside with me while I finish the siding on the house, and that’ll be nice. Abby’ll throw the ball for him, because he’s weird about me doing it.

I love that boy.