My dog. Yesterday I'm in the
kitchen working on something. I don't remember what. Allie, my dog
who almost died last week, walks up to me and stands there, staring
at the back door.
Oh, I think to myself, I guess
she wants to go out.
I take her out like I always do,
watch as she travels down the stairs. I sit on the door step waiting,
so she'll know she is welcome inside once she's done. She does
nothing. She comes right back in the house.
I get back to work until, only
seconds later, there she stands again, looking for all the world as
though she wants to go out. I repeat the process. Again she does
nothing, and I have to call her to come back in side.
I get back to work, but still she
stands there, looking as though she wants to go out.
“Will you see if you can figure
out what she wants?” I ask my husband.
Michael takes her out, and again
she travels down the stairs only to stand there. When he brings her
back in he says, “She's a Fox.”
“There's a fox in our yard?”
“No, Allie is a Fox. She goes
outside and then forgets why she's there. Must be hereditary.”
2 comments:
He may be on to something...we always say our family is crazy, including the four legged members.
I like that. Obviously I was slow to get it, but he was referencing that Bill Cosby bit: My wife is crazy and it's hereditary; she gets it from the kids... or something like that.
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