Thursday, August 11, 2016
The dog in the window by River Song
I have become the happy face in the window.
It has been a long time since there was a happy face in the window at my parents house. When they lived in their condo, and their son was living in Florida, Foley was let roam the house freely. But then the son moved back home, and my parents never trusted him with complicated duties, like closing the front door, so Foley was put on her blanket in the bedroom.
When they moved to their new home here at the village of the pruned Foley was left in the bedroom when my parents went out, happily curled up on her red blanket. Pocket stayed in her crate, the same one she uses today.
After I gained my parole my parents thought I would do more damage if I was put behind a closed bedroom door. So I was given run of the entire house (honestly, with four rooms, two baths,and laundry room it is more of a jaunt than a run).
While I gained the joy of freedom, my parents gained something of equal value. They gained the face in the window.
Any parent with dogs in the house know that look. They return home being drained of whatever dramas travelling beyond the boundries of our yard causes. They hear a bark, look up, and see a big, smiling face. No dog or person has ever looked happier to see someone. Each time a dog sees their parent return home they look happier than the last time.
I have to work harder the dogs who merely stand in the window. I need to stand on my back two legs with my paws on the sill. When they, on their return, see my smiling face, and make eye contact, I begin to bark. First I bark looking at them, then my head goes back and I bark towards the moon that my parents are home.
I move to the door where I jump up to the window while they fumble their keys and finally get inside to scratch my head and say hello. It is almost worth them leaving.
Then they let a barking Pocket out of the crate and things go downhill.
I am still a rookie at being the dog in the window. If you have any suggestions please let me know.
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