Everyone got a drink, went out, came in, got in his appropriate crate, got a biscuit and I locked the cell block down. Cooper went off to John's room. I tried to finish what I was doing.
Conley curled up and if not sleeping was quiet.
Nigel went through his usual pre-sleep prep: digging in the crate pad, moving it here and there, banging into the sides of the crate, scraping his nails on the metal beneath the crate pad. Yawning. Shifting. Licking. Yawning. Then doing the whole thing again two or three times until I want to crack him over the head with a mallet. Usually I end up yelling ENOUGH!! and he settles.
Llewis is my boy who simply gets into his crate, wobbles about for a moment and goes to sleep.
Except for last night. He began whining. I inquired as to what was bothering him but he just looked at me and wagged his tail. When I looked away he began whining. None of the dogs is as pathetic as Llewis when it comes to pathos. With his off-center back and hunchy-ness, his rogue leg stuck out at funny angles and his sincere, "help-me" face (fake, about 50% of the time) he makes suckers of us all. BUT. But. The last time he did this it wasn't fake, and he was full of gas and possibly starting to bloat.
So I put down my things and opened the crate and out bounced one of the happiest dogs in the world. What on earth? I am not a novice at interpreting dog-ese. I asked if he wanted out. No. A decisive no. He headed, wiggling, wagging, barking happily (having attracted the undivided attention of the others now) to the kitchen. Do you want a treat? YES YES OH YES I AM STARVING YES PLEASE A TREAT OH THAT WOULD BE SO PERFECT A LITTLE BITE BEFORE BED PLEASE YES YOU MUST HAVE SKIPPED ME!!uh hunh.
right, I did, I just bet I did.
Nevertheless I hand out treats again. Back in the crate he goes.
We go through the whole routine again as I once again start polishing, removing old tags and writing new ones. Conley quiet: Nigel rattle-bang.
Llewis whining. Wait, what??? Yes, Llewis is whining, new pitch, new level of angst.
I get up and open the crate. Boing boing boing. I give him a Gas-X just in case. I wander into the bedroom and discuss this with John who says oh just leave him out, and with Llewis this is a viable option since he is physically incapable of counter-cruising and a number of other highly bassety forms of trouble.
I go through the litany again, or start: Do you want out?
OH YESS YESS YESS! OUT WOULD BE WONDERFUL! YOU MUST NOT HAVE LET US OUT BEFORE BED AND I DRANK WATER AND PLEASE, YES I NEED TO GO OUT!!
So out he went. Expecting a quick pee and re-entry I wait by the door. And wait. And wait. It is dark. There is a mirror outside on the post by the door so that I can look and see if the dogs are coming in. No Llewis. I am in my jammies and barefeet. I get the flashlight and wander out into the night, looking for my lost child.
Far out in the yard is Llewis, holding a toy, wagging his tail.
COME AND GET ME.
Awwwww, come on buddy, I gotta finish this stuff and it is almost ten o'clock.
Besides, I am barefoot and while the yard has been cleaned twice today you guys have eaten three times. And it's dark.
YOU WANNA TREAT?
OH YESS YESS A TREAT WOULD BE EXCELLENT!!
and so he gets another treat, he is allowed to sleep out of his crate, and now at last he seems happy, curled on the couch while the others stomp and mutter in their crates.
Every now and again, everyone needs something special.
