A Dog's Life, Home

At Home

Over the weekend, Hoagie started coming upstairs at night. He tried the den/guest room floor. He sniffed my rug but seemed to decide it belonged to the cat (which is horrifyingly true, I fear). He wandered into LP’s room and found her missing, but the next night was happy to see her there. He picked his way around the computer room, which had painting supplies in it and other detritus of children passing through and dropping things, never to retrieve them.

Eventually he settled on the hallway as his best location. From there he could see us if we left our rooms.

This morning I came down early to take him for a short walk in the softly falling snow. When we came back inside, he looked around expectantly for his girl, but it’s vacation, and she was sleeping late. I went to the basement to get some laundry, and when I came back he wasn’t in the kitchen anymore. I checked the living room, the sun room, the dining room, circling around.

And then I looked at the foot of the stairs.

Somebody wanted to be sure someone didn’t get past him.

Tonight LP said what I’ve been feeling since Day 2: “I already love him.”

It will be hard to leave him for a week, but he will be visiting with a wonderful Berner family, experienced with Rescue dogs. This was the commitment of Rescue when we agreed to make a home for Hoagie.

So he could make himself at home.

13 thoughts on “At Home”

  1. This reminded me of bringing our rescue dog Chica home, and her gradual realization that 'Hey — I live here, and this is my pack, and I like it.'

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