Waiting until the last minute doesn't mean I don't love Mr. Gus --- does it?

We waited too long. I don’t know what I was thinking. But now there is no room at the vet to board Gus. And there is no room at most vets. And, the grandparents said that we can absolutely not bring Mr. Woofy Woof with us when we visit and all of our friends and neighbors are going to be busy with Christmas Eve and Christmas day and with family and traveling and their kids, and so we can’t ask them to take care of Gussy for us. So we had no choice but to reserve a cage (though I prefer to use the word kennel, because it sounds less harsh) at a vet we are unfamiliar with. They say he gets to go outside three times a day and gets a private yard where he can play for 20 minutes at a time. But Gus might get cold if he is outside for that long, and what if he escapes or if he hates it and gets scared and cowers in the corner and forgets to “go potty.” He’ll be screwed then, because after 5:00, he doesn’t get checked on until 8 a.m. when he will likely have urine all over his once clean and soft fur, and he will also wonder where his mommy and daddy are. Plainly, I am going to have a very hard Christmas wondering and worrying about my Gussy. I guess I need to view him as a dog this weekend and not as a part of the family, which is how I usually see him, especially last Saturday night when we took him with us to go look at the Christmas lights. I know that he didn’t really understand what was going on, but he at least humored me a few times when I said “Gus, look at those lights,” and he raised his head and looked out the window. Maybe all of this projecting onto my dog means I’m craving an actual child, a baby perhaps? But for now, I’m content with my Gus. I am not content, however, with having to board him in hell.