For those of you
who have dogs, you know that they are an important member of the family. Like little children, they have diverse
personalities with mood swings that range from one extreme to the other. They can be affectionate or aloof, protective
or frightened, remorseful or stubborn, smart or clueless, cunning or naïve,
forgiving or vindictive, and at times, funny as all heck.
This spring, April
is turning out to be more wintery than December was. In deference to the weather, I have dutifully
planted my herbs and started some early tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers, but
the arctic air keeps blowing and every night as the afternoon sun begins to
wane, I have to carefully bring my tender plants into the house.
My four-legged son,
Sebastian, a constant companion, great protector and watchdog, the first bold sentry
to man (or dog) his post and sound the alarm if he even dreams someone is
approaching the house, was quietly asleep in my bed this morning. About 3:30 AM, I heard him stir, and I did my
best to remain as still as possible cherishing the warm blankets and some much
needed rest; it was below freezing and I really didn’t want to take him
out. My ruse didn’t work and soon he was
up kicking his back feet like some Spanish fighting bull about to charge the matador;
it is his signal that he needs to go potty.
I swung my legs out
of bed and put on my warm slippers.
Cory, deducing what the early morning ruckus was all about, darted into
the kitchen to pounce on the basement door; that is his signal that he needs to go potty.
I stumble into the
predawn darkness wishing I had the luxury of emptying my own bladder before bracing
the morning cold. Down the stairs and
opening the back door that leads into their run, I realize that Cory is the
only one with me. From the base of the
steps I called Sebastian to follow, but the only answer I got was a weak, pathetic
whimper.
I panicked thinking
he had hurt himself or something. I flew
back upstairs and turned on all the lights.
Sebastian was sitting in the bedroom looking totally perplexed. I invited him again to come “go potty.” He approached the bedroom door, looked into
the hall, and retreated stealthily back into the bedroom.
Apparently, the two
planters that have been stored in the hallway every night for a week, today
looked menacing beyond any canine fortitude my little boy could muster. I scooped up my vicious watchdog and carried
him to the basement steps.
We all remember the
nightmares of a monster hiding under the bed or the boogeyman in the closet,
well, I guess to Sebastian, two yellow planters in the hall are just as terrifying.
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