my little refugee dogs

My mother called me three days before I left for New Jersey.

"Have you ever heard of the Nazis?" she asked.

"Yes Mom," I replied, rolling my eyes. I'd majored in Nazi German history in college. "Why do you ask?"

"Our dogs are like the Jews during Nazi Germany," she said, laughing. "Every time we want to take them out, we need to sneak them ou of the house covered in blankets."

My parents finally sold their (1 of 3) house in Somerset, and moved to my childhood home in Edison, NJ. We didn't know this when I was younger, but apparently the townhouse complex that we now live in don't allow pets. We're just waiting for the letter to come when the babies get kicked out.

Until then, the dogs have been hiding in the house. All of our blinds are drawn, we don't let them bark, and we wrap towels and bags around them when we take them into the car whenever we have to drive them somewhere for a walk.

Thankfully, the parents usually go to their place in Blandon, PA on the weekends, where the dogs get to roam free...


My babies take in the sun at Blandon