We had some weather last night. Apparently we also had some wind. I let the dogs out back, then walked out front to pick up my newspaper. And there were my dogs. It's cold this morning--37--and I haven't gone around yet to check the gates.
Gracie is one, when let loose, will run amok and not come back. Brody, my irrepressible male, will ALWAYS come when I call. And if he comes, so does Gracie. She might miss something. Whew! both dogs came in with me willingly. After all, it was cold.
When they are unleashed in the front yard, I am fearful. I have not trained well, but I love them. I don't want them to die. But no one was out on a weekend morning walking their dogs. No one was driving by.
Gracie continues to think the world is good and everyone needs a good lean against. Brody continues to bark at every moving thing and loves my chair where he can survey the street and bark. I find it strange that when he is I the back yard, on the deck, he can hear better, and does not bark. Gracie barks when she chases squirrels, birds, and butterflies. Inside, she sometimes chases houseflies, which I appreciate and can track by the thuds on the floor. When she runs, she is beauty in motion. She can balance better on her hind legs then any dog I have ever seen, looking for food on perimeters of tables.
Alas, alas. I don't make that mistake often. Once, I did. And she is ever hopeful.
When she leaps in the air to try to snap a fly, it isn't pretty. When she and Brody race around the back yard, I laugh at the joy of it. They are beautiful, sometimes leaping over one another, laughing all the way as they run.
My grandcats live next door, and are fun. They often come to visit and leave cat paw tracks the length of my car. Occasionally, they go to the back yard to tease the dogs when I let them out. The cats are very confident they are faster. They are.
The dogs and I have an agreement. At night, when it is dark, they are not allowed on the bed. Once it is turning light, they are allowed up. It's supposed to be 30 minutes, but it often is an hour of the best sleep I get.
Years ago, there was a band called Three Dog Night. I interviewed them once, and the leader explained that in Australia, a three-dog night meant cold weather. In other words, they were VERY cool.
I will never have more than a two-dog night, but Brody likes my feet, Gracie likes my back. I sleep so well that time before the sun wakes us all up.
Gotta check the gates. Time to let them out again.