Oo, la-la..cocktail party time at the condo. Bring it on.

Don't you just love it when the humans entertain? Aw, so fun and Gaz and Moolie seem to enjoy playing hosts, for some odd reason. Looks like a lot of work and bother to me, but if they are keen to do it, they will hear not one critical peep from me.

 

Think you will agree it's fun to hang out in the kitchen and get all up into the par-tay prep.  Cozying up to Moolie's ankles and feet as she flits about from cabinets, to fridge, to who knows where, well, it just makes me one happy King Charles (btw-does EVERYTHING about me have to sound so manly-I know we are named FOR a king and everything, but I would prefer to be a Princess...something). Yes, I am digressing, so back on topic.

 

Tonight we had a cocktail party, complete with lots of music, chatter, clinking of glasses, milling around, laughing, more talking, looking at the view, blah, blah, blah.  All of which took away from playing with and petting the cutest dog IN the building.

 

It is great to meet new faces and make new friends. I love that so much and spent the entire day being super excited and making sure I didn't muss my coat too much or get food on my mouth or ears. I do have a reputation to uphold. Does that sound a little shallow? Excellent. All is well.

 

Come to think of it, the entire day wasn't just about fun as I had to be alone when Moolie vacated the condo for a few hours. Seemed like hours. I suspect it had to do with the party, but with her shopping habits, you can never be certain. Come to think of it, I did glimpse some new Dillard's bags and shoe boxes in her closet. Yay, possible chew items for some later date. Oh, as usual, when she got home I found some treats in a sack. I love that part. I stride into the kitchen, non-chalant, of course, and there they are. Bags, left just for me. I have to act all surprised and tail-waggy and happy, so as not to disappoint the Mool. She expects all that and waits to see my reaction. I just don't have it in me to let her down. I should be in movies, or at least reality tv, for the performances around here.

 

Back to the party-thing. Being a major part of the festivities is just exciting and is almost better than getting my special Carver Treats...which are only given for being especially spectacular. Like that's hard?

 

I'm not entirely certain, but sometimes I get the feeling that Moolie doesn't really think my being "with her" as she readies a party is all that helpful. Nothing terribly specific, just a vague feeling, totally unsubstantiated. Could it be? Nah, impossible.

 

Face it, her work would be considerably more difficult without me right by her side, or feet, if you will. I'm there for her, trusty BDFF. Solid. I stand on alert to grab any morsel of cheese or random falling appetizer. Imagine it. My assistance is better than any maid, dust-buster or sous-chef. Totally.

 

Unfortunately, although I was the true HIT of the party...all too soon I was given the old heave-ho into the doggie apartment for the remainder of the event. The peeps are adamant that I not be a pest and nuisance as all folks are not deeply and truly enamored with pets. Go figure. I have heard Gaz and Moolie exchanging nightmarish stories about other dogs and their owners who are amazingly casual about canine etiquette. Very big deal to my two, I promise you. Questionable dog etiquette out there just ruins it for the rest of us perfect mutts.

 

In reality, hitting the apartment early wasn't too awful. It's comfy and I got extra-extra special treats (they seemed smaller though) and the movie on the tube wasn't half bad. Besides, after the soiree concluded, Gaz and Moolie pulled on some dog-walking garb and off we went into the night for a relaxing stroll along Bayshore. Life could be worse.  You do understand that it is my duty to look all sad-eyed and lonely at times like this so the peeps will feel guilt-ridden. I owe it to my dawg-dogs. I just hope the peeps don't catch on. Nah, I'm way too smooth.