Big Disclaimer: Angelina is back. I would never mention anybody’s travel plans until they are safe at home again. Nobody needs to worry that their whereabouts will be blurted about under their pseudonym on an anonymous virtually unread blog written by another pseudonym in a city far away.

Bedtime for Bingo — a very, very good boy.

Angelina: Was that a knock? WHO’S AT THE DOOR? Let’s see who it is. Look, Guys! IT’S MARE!

Me: Hi Sweetie! Hey Super Pup. Hey Bingo. I didn’t bring treats, but you can come sniff and lick me anyway.

Angelina: This week while I’m away, Vickie is staying with the dogs. You don’t know her yet. Lovely woman. I think she is a Genius. Like, literally. You know how with some people, you can just SENSE that they’re a Genius?

Me: I wouldn’t know.

A: You’ve got to meet her.

M: I’ll watch for a stranger stealing your dogs, and go introduce myself. What time is your Uber pickup?

A: At 4:30 am.

M: So in seven hours.

A: Say a prayer for me, that I’m downstairs in time.

M: Okay. Have you packed yet?

A: No.

M: I’ll say two prayers. So, you’re off to Island X___ ! Exciting times.

A: Swimming with wild pigs.

M: Huh. So, like Chincoteague, but…?

A: Pigs. Look: Here are pictures on my phone. People swim with them.

M: Did they run out of dolphins?

A: Dolphins don’t live there. Pigs do. Careful, Bingo: I don’t want to trip on you. There, there; you go lie down. Good boy. Bingo’s joints are hurting him. Want some tea?

M: Not if you’re waking up in five hours. Aren’t pigs, like, large, heavy, faster than we are, and wicked smart with teeth?

A: A few injuries here and there apparently. But my friend wants to go.

M: Hence, she invited Nurse Angelina, R.N. Good plan.

A: Do you need extra tomato sauce? Here’s a jar. Here’s two. And, a scarf for you. It’s warm.

M: Thank you, it’s very pretty. You could stay home and swim with Bingo in a hot tub of Epsom salts.

A: Poor old fella. It’s time for his pain meds. Take this waterproof jacket. Let me hold it up to you. Good, it’s long enough. Eddie Bauer. Put it on. It’s just a shell.

M: Shells are what most people tell me to come out of, not put on. Gosh, nice jacket. Thank you!

A: So tell me ALL of your news!

M: My friend Gabrielle, the art appraiser and historian, is coming to visit next year.

A: That’s great! The one who was your boss.

M: Right, like that movie “I Heard the Mermaids Singing”? She’s the gorgeous cultured Curator, and I’m Polly, her organizationally challenged Girl Friday. I told her she can have my apartment and I can stay in your spare room. I guess I could have asked your permission first.

A: What about THE BED?

M: In your spare room? If your spare room doesn’t have a bed, that’s fine. I’ll sleep on the floor, like at home.

A: No no no. I meant the bed at YOUR place. As in, you don’t OWN one.

M: Oh. You’re right. I can’t put Gabrielle on a floor, because she has a stiff back.

A: Mare. Get a grip. You can’t put Gabrielle on a floor because she is A HUMAN BEING. That settles it. We are buying her an air mattress!

M: Tonight???

A: As soon as I am back. Or no — you take MY bedroom. She’ll take my spare room. You girls can stay up all night and talk. That’s half the fun. I’ll go to your place and sleep on the floor.

M: Well, we’ve got a year to argue about it. Better let you pack.

A: Take this carry bag for the tomato sauce. I put in some pasta to go with. And here: keto granola bars; Costco had a sale. Jacket looks good on you. But it’s just a shell, with no warmth.

M: Just like me. Bye Bunny! I’ll miss you!