I try to take Smooch with me whenever I leave the ranch.
She's good company and, besides, I hate the sad-eyed look she gives me when I leave her home.
Alan: Look sad. Maybe she'll take us, too.
The look of a smug dog with passenger privileges.
Me: There isn't room.
We ran into a few of our bovine friends. This particular herd is generally friendly
and harmless, but a bull is still a bull, so I stayed in my truck,
which happens to look like the truck of the rancher who feeds them.
Me: You've got me confused with somebody else.
Me: I've had enough sad-eyed looks for one morning, thank you very much.
(Google translate: Feed me.)
I drove off before this little one started wailing,
having had enough guilt for one trip.