I left Cooper outside in the Van, parked where I could see it, with the doors and hatch open, in his crate. He is happy in his crate in the Van. He considers it a home base. I can leave him anywhere in that Van and he will wait quietly for me to return. When my Dad was dying in the hospital I would park the Van in the underground garage and crack the windows (it was winter, in Iowa) and Cooper would be happily snoozing when I got back two or three hours later.
It is one of his most endearing qualities that he is a world-class traveler. He rides elevators, doesn't pee in art Galleries, (in fact is trained to not pee if I tell him not to pee on something outside, like someone's prize rose bush). He doesn't bark unless someone approaches the car and then he is protective.
So there he was when it began to rain. And it was raining into the Van. And it was pretty warm and extremely humid (well yes, if it was raining...) and then it thundered. Uh Oh.
I grabbed a leash and got Cooper out of the crate and he dragged me to the front door.
Now please keep in mind that Cooper has not been inside his home since the day the water fell and the roof failed. So he has no idea what has happened in there, only that he has been living like a spoiled little king in a motel, without the short-legs, eating McDonald's and Subway and getting to sleep on a king=sized bed if he wants, or a pull out couch (with me) if he prefers.
Life has been good for Cooper.
I opened the door to the house and he lunged inside and came to a dead halt. Within seconds, all his hair was standing on end and from within him came a low and extremely menacing snarl. And then the barking started. Very angry, aggressive barking. The kind he uses on people he knows should not be where they are and/or whom I do not like. (There was no one else there.)
I got him quieted down and we sat together at the foot of the stairs-- there are nails all over the floor. The moment the rain let up I opened the door and he charged for the Van and leaped into his crate. Later I went out again and sat on the tailgate and opened his crate, thinking he might like to join me for a little snuggle but he looked wary and disturbed and refused.
He was delighted to come "home" to the motel.
It made me realise what a stressful and discombobulating summer this is going to be for the dogs--- out of their lifelong home into a motel (or kennel) and then to another home, and then back to the original which will not smell the same, look the same, or even BE the same.
What must they think?
