Read Online Dog Stays in the Picture by Susan; Morse - Free Book Online

It is true: You’re thrilled they’re home. Over the moon with delight, really. But you’re kind of used to the reduction in your chore load, and you sort of wish they’d not expect you to do anything extra for them anymore. (If she really wants Nutri-Grain bars that badly, why can’t she go to the market and pick up a box?)
    Because David is away so much, the process of applying for college and other academic minutiae is mostly my job. With my stay-at-home status, it is logical that I’m the one our offspring will turn to when it comes time to hit that final Submitbutton on the Common Application website. David is on call if we need him, but for the most part it’s easier to leave him on the sidelines, in the kitchen making dinner if possible. (I hate cooking, and David’s an absolute master. He has tons of food allergies, so he puts a lot of thought into inventing fantastic new recipes. He is an artist. Each meal is a symphony.)
    Ben seems to be squared away. He and his girlfriend, Jilli, have been sitting side by side on the sofa for weeks, meticulously perfecting their applications, keeping each other on course. Jilli’s mother is a college guidance counselor, so I am under the impression we can actually take the old-fashioned approach with Ben’s admission process, sort of like back when I was applying myself. Parents were allowed to stay out of it then, and everything somehow fell into place. Quite relaxing compared to Eliza’s frantic process, and this cauldron of stress with Sam. It’s lucky Mother Brigid has that party this afternoon and is staying out of my hair, because I’m kind of climbing the walls.
    It’s New Year’s Eve morning and Sam is on the last lap. He’s been hard at it all week, now facing tonight’s midnight deadline for his big Ivy League reach. These Ivies are a real shot in the dark for most high school seniors given the competitive climate baby boomers’ kids face these days, and quite frankly, we admire the kid’s guts going for the gold.
    Sam chose this Ivy because a lot of his forebears were happy there, and also because it is distinguished as being particularly artsy and humanities-focused, which is a good fit for him. He has finally finished polishing his short answers—a series of quick questions like Why did you choose to apply to Ivy University? and so forth—now he’s tackling the big essay.
    While Sam works, I burn off some of my nervous energy on a rather long and invigorating walk with Lilly. Thankfully there’s no snow on the ground at the moment. These walks are a lot more fun than they were when she first arrived. When everything was new, she was on sensory overload and it was all I could do to drag her up the block and back. For a while, the only way to mobilize her was to coordinate our walk schedule with the O’Briens’ and travel in a pack, like racetrack dogs. Now Lilly loves a walk. She’s becoming more and more interested in her surroundings, slowing down when we pass people on the sidewalk, disappointed if we don’t stop to say hello. Usually we do—most people are struck by her regal bearing, her glamorous markings. Walking with Lilly is a little like being out with David when people want to talk movies or take a picture.
    Today, we ramble all over the neighborhood and there are lots of squirrels for Lilly to go all instantly rigid and muscular about, ears pricked forward like tiger-striped torpedoes. It’s awfully primal when she spots small rabbitlike prey. Unlike Arrow, who used to yank me everywhere, Lilly has wonderful walking manners as long as her prey drive isn’t triggered. Her leash stays deceptively slack until she sights something, so it’s important to always be ready, because her contained energy sort of shoots electrically up the leash and you are suddenly very aware you’re walking a canine superhero.
    I don’t have the mental