While at Costco yesterday, I spotted a present for the dog and without even looking at the price threw it into my cart. ($19.99, as it turned out.)
Now usually when I get home, the dog and I have a certain routine. I walk in the door and she goes insane, mostly trying to jump into my arms so she can get to my face. I wave her off to the bedroom, saying “Bed, Zelda, bed.” She races in, bounces onto the bed, and I come close enough that she can put her paws on my chest and nuzzle my face. She hasn’t fully greeted me until she’s had her chance to bump her head under my chin. If I’m loaded down with stuff, as sometimes happens, I go into the kitchen and unload while she weaves her way around my feet, shaking with excitement, and then we do the bed routine.
So imagine my surprise yesterday when I come in, unload, and then look around for the dog. She was nowhere to be seen. She’d gone out to the garage and was trying to get into the trunk of the car. Okay, I had brought steak home–but the steak was in the kitchen already. So what did she want in the trunk?
There wasn’t much left in there. Hmm, but there was her present–boxed, I might add. I pulled it out and she went crazy, jumping up, trying to get it, licking it. She did not even care that I was there. She whimpered with excitement.
I could understand this if the present was a dog treat. If it had smelled like beef jerky. If there was something about it that said dog. But this was none of the above. So I’ve decided that the dog is psychic.
At least she is when it comes to a new BASKETBALL! I took it out of its box, took it outside, and oh, she was happy, happy, happy. And after several silent weeks in the backyard, where she never really barked at all, she’s back to making furious amounts of noise as she tries to get the ball wherever it is she thinks it belongs.