Dear Readers,

I don’t mean literally lifting a leg on 2021, of course. I just meant that Momma and I are hoping to get a good start to the year. And, other than a few first-world problems, things are going pretty well.

We had a non-eventful flight back to Florida. No trained seals as support animals on the plane. Our condo is still standing, but more on that below. Momma is a fixture on the golf course, and I’m back training at Ruffger’s Dog University with Gigi (see photo, right). We have run into several old friends in our condo building, most of them wearing masks where required. Momma kind of likes that since she now has a built-in excuse for not recognizing people.

My dog sitters, Janice and Natalie, are looking after me almost on a daily basis. Here are a few photos of me playing and going on walks with them, and one with Natalie giving me a belly rub. Yay!

This is not to woof, of course, that there haven’t been a few issues. This is life with Momma, after all. First, I am not allowed on the balcony/deck because of the buzzards circling our building (it seems they may be looking for dead fish washed on shore because of the red tide in the Gulf — and one can never be too careful). Second, I am not allowed to walk around the Cape — also because of the red tide (possible lung irritation). The beach is no problem because, as you all know, I’m not allowed on it anyway due to doggie discrimination. I just might write a letter to our new president about that. He has dogs named Champ and Major, so I think he’d be on my side.

Then there’s the condo itself: Our ice maker is not working. Momma did her best to fix it — i.e., she turned it on and off a few times — but, shockingly, that didn’t work. She quit monkeying with it when a puddle of water formed on the floor and our water alarm went off. Now what was she supposed to do? Go to the gas station every time she needed ice? Luckily, a friend told her about a new invention called ice cube trays.

Then last week Momma was having dinner in Naples when the mind shattering alarm in our building went off (just how many alarms can my little big ears take in one lifetime?) as it often does. Luckily, my dog sitter, Janice, was just leaving the building and ran back up to rescue me.

In other news, Momma is having a bit of a spat with her building. A couple of weeks ago, management sent around an email saying that the volume on the TVs in the workout room could no longer be turned up. The notice further stated that the only way to listen would be to download the AudioFetch app — has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? — onto ones phone. Momma, who was used to watching and listening to Fox News in the workout room unabated, was furious — her association dues had just gone up and she was not about to spend any money on ear pods. Actually they’re called air pods, but I don’t want to confuse her. Stay tuned (but only if you’re plugged in).

Speaking of working out, Momma decided it was time to join the 21st century and buy some “yoga” pants. The problem is that the young perky clerk (as Momma still calls them) insisted that she buy a smaller size than what was comfortable, and now she can barely work out — or move for that matter. (“Lina – I can hardly breath — should these pants really feel like I’m wearing a tourniquet?”) All I can say is nama-stay.

Lina, Life Coach

WOOFDA!