When it’s warm, I sit on the deck by the pond to eat lunch. My dog, Brutie, knows this and can’t wait to slip the surly bonds of confinement to join me. Then he nose-checks every square inch of the yard at super-sonic speed.
If I take a break from my peanut butter toast to amble over to the garden to check for emerging peas or green beans, he will kick it into high gear and circle the entire back yard no fewer than five times. Between revolutions he trots up to me for praise and honors.
After I return to the deck and my lunch, Brutie decides he needs a little nourishment of his own, and begs to go in. Dutifully, I put down my banana and let him in.
Just as I pick up where I left off, Brutie announces that he has finished eating and is ready to return to the magnificent arena of outdoors. From the doorway he launches into full bullet mode again and investigates every tree for errant squirrels and every nook and cranny for savage chipmunks.
Convinced that all wildlife is behaving, he returns to the deck for further orders. I scratch him behind the ears, which for some reason reminds him he needs to go into the house again.
Five minutes later, he wants back out. And when I go in a minute later to refill my coffee, he assures me that is just what he has been waiting for. Inside, he follows me to the kitchen and then disappears into the dining room. Fine, I return to the deck. Thirty seconds later, he wants back out.
Why on earth does he do that? I’ve got some ideas, of course, which I’ll share with you just as soon as I let the dog out.