Tucker Goes to School! 🐾📚
Guess what?
I’m going to school.
Yep. SCHOOL.
Mom kept saying that word all week, but honestly, I thought it meant something fun like “we’re going to the park later” or “Tucker, stop raiding the Dixie cups out of the bathroom trash.”
(Spoiler: I regret nothing.)
Everything started with a car ride in the dark.
DARK.
We never leave in the dark. We only come home in the dark. So my brain launched into full detective mode:
• Park?
• Vets?
• GRANDKIDS?!
• SECRET MISSION?
• SECOND DINNER?!
But none of the smells matched. And Mom didn’t say my favorite magic words: “Wanna go to the park?” (More on that later. Spoiler: the answer is always yes.)
We stopped at a big building with a giant room full of smells—dog smells, hooman smells, snack smells, maybe-cat smells, and something that definitely fell off a treat table in 2019. But no actual dogs yet.
Just me.
So I trotted around like the official sniff inspector while Mom and Dad followed, probably dazzled by my investigative skills.
Then the other doggos arrived.
HELLO FRIENDS!
But apparently, school has rules.
No greeting. No zooming.
Everyone sits in their own little square like polite potatoes.
One dog kept growling—not at me (I mean, who would?), but at existence in general. I gave him a respectful glance that said:
“Sir, this is a learning environment.”
Mom started giving me treats and making those little clicking noises she does when she wants me to focus. I tried. Truly. But the new hoomans! The new doggos! THE SMELLS!
Then Mom stood up and we walked in a circle.
A whole circle.
Around and around like we were orbiting a giant invisible cookie.
It was fine, but I wanted to meet my classmates.
And guess what?
We go back every week.
EVERY. WEEK.
So I’m officially a school dog now.
Should I get a tiny backpack?
A lunchbox?
A locker with a photo of my stuffed bunny taped inside?
Stay tuned.
This student is ready to learn…as long as snacks are involved.
🐾 Nose boops and tail wags,
Tucker 💛