Once in a while, I leave the house. Yes, even I get out. I had a meeting at the Wilton Manors Development Alliance. Mind you, this was not a very long meeting, we weren't gone for too long, but one thing I have to let you in on...
Dogs have a lousy sense of time.
You walk out of the house, lean over the fence and talk to the neighbor, have a cup of coffee. By the time you get back, you are greeted as if you are a long lost friend who has just climbed Mount Everest without a Sherpa. It was a world shattering event, all compressed into 10 minutes.
That day, I spent making some rather excellent muffins from a recipe that I can throw together in about 15 minutes. Three dozen of the things, most of which were put in the freezer for "sweet-tooth emergencies".
At one point, my little black and white dart got bored, and I needed to wait to allow the ingredients to come up to room temp. Looking into nut brown eyes, I said "Lets Go Out!".
What dog doesn't want to go outside on a warm day? We went out back into the August Afternoon. 90 degrees of brilliant South Florida sunshine. Rack walked over to His Spot next to the big Palm Tree That Can Be Seen From Space and parked himself. Not in the shade, but right as you see him, in the sun.
Ready for that close-up now?
I managed to convince him that it was time to come inside once I got warm simply by walking over to the back door. Faster than normal, he got his fill of things outdoorsy.
Going through the day, we managed to get him walked early and then he walked himself into the crate when it was time to pack up the muffins and go to the meeting. An amazingly agreeable little dog, motivated to please.
The table was set, both with cinnamon muffins and with the future goofy return dance. We went about our meeting returning with leftover muffins for snacks.
Note to self: 3 dozen muffins are either too many or too few depending on what I'm going to do with them, whether they are easy to make or not.
Before the door was opened, we got a cheery "Hello!" from Oscar. Then we heard it. Pulling the door out and stepping through, we heard a badly balanced motor sound.
If you ever had a laundry go wrong, this is similar. When your washer is spinning out of balance and you get that loud Thump-a-thump-a-thump sound, this is the canine cousin. There was a quiet, then louder squeaking sound while that thumping got more insistent.
Rack knew we were home.
I walked into the bedroom, unlatched the crate, and it was a wall of fur all over me.
No, not my own, the dog.
He was trying to lean against me as if to say if I sit here, you won't go.
Black and White dog, pink tongue, high pitched squeaks of joy, yielded to wiggling and leaping, followed by slipping on the tile floor.
He spotted Kevin and repeated the ritual.
Someone's happy to see us.
The rest of the night was a cycle of calming down followed by a whine. At night if the dog whines, you open the door and let him water the shrubs.
Not last night, this was him still wound up from being left alone for that little bit. Luckily the Dog Walk Hour was approaching and we'd get him out on his normal routine.
Literally it took the Truck Monsters of Wilton Drive to calm him down.
We managed to "empty the dog" a couple different places around town. Returning from the Evening Mile and a Half after taking time to sit on two benches to give him more time and exposure to Scary Things, we got him home.
Immediately he went into the crate. My People Are Home, My Job Is Done, I Can Rest.
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