We have a towel on the floor next to each door to the back yard. For the dog when he comes in as a soggy doggy intent on slinging water and mud as far as the eye can see.
It’s a game, actually, snagging old Brutie and wrapping him the towel as he gallops through the door. Once the towel has him captive I can dry him down and wipe his feet.
I talk to him while drying, assuring him it’s in his best interest to be dry and fluffy while in the house. He whimpers to let my wife know what he thinks of me.
“What are you doing to the dog?” she asks.
“Drying his feet.”
“Sounds like you’re performing major surgery.”
“He’s lying.”
Sometimes I open the door to let him in, and he gets past me. Once inside, he goes into full canter, spinning his muddy hinds across the kitchen floor and into the family room. Revenge is sweet. It takes long minutes to clean up the mess.
As Brutie has grown older, his needs have changed. As a young canine, he settled into a routine that was fairly well balanced between inside and outside. He would go out several times a day, and after that was content to sleep in the family room or on the enclosed back porch.
Now that he’s older (96 in dog years), he can’t remember whether he just came in or just went out. As a result, he continually wants whatever it is he doesn’t have.
Five minutes after getting toweled off, he wants back out. I shake my head.
“You just came in,” I tell him. “Go lie down on the porch.” He walks to the back door and whines.
I let him out and then watch to see if he really meant it. He stands just outside the door for a long moment as though making a note of what just happened. Maybe he’s trying to remember where he is.
After a reasonable wait, he trots across the lawn, sniffs various points of interest to see if anything has changed since he last saw it 15 minutes earlier, finds a spot he hasn’t visited for a day or so and takes care of business. I feel guilty for doubting him until I remember that he can go on a neighborhood walk with me and manage to water down every fence post, shrub and mailbox we pass. Dogs are experts at water management.
Then, of course, he wanders back to the door and wants in. I grab the towel and try to anticipate his next move. He crouches down as I open the door.
Let the games begin.
