Seamus

We have a new habit.  This weekend, Marcus and I are going out of town to attend my cousin's baby shower in Memphis.  My mom agreed to take care of Seamus (and Neville, but Seamus is higher maintenance, being a dog) for us while we were gone.  Believe it or not, since we've had him. . . (August of '08 when he was just a tiny puppy.  Let's break for picture.)

Awww!  Look at how cute and tiny he was!

Anyway, I was saying, since we've had him, we've only left town once without him, when we went to Nashville for another cousin's wedding.  We boarded him, and thought that went really well.  However, when we went to pick him up, there was a dog crying somewhere in the back.  Marcus made a comment that that dog must be heartbroken, and the lady at the front informed us that that was OUR heartbroken dog, and that he had been crying like that all weekend.  Never again!  

Since then, we haven't left town except to go see Alex and Elizabeth in Auburn, and we took him with us those two or three times.  The first time went great because it was April and still relatively comfortable outside, and we were limited to all outdoor activities.  The second (and maybe third?  I don't remember) time, it was July or something and outdoor activities were miserable.  We considered then that it'd be a good idea to get someone to keep him at our house anytime we wanted to leave town instead of toting him with us.  This has been hard for me, because I love him and I'm happier when he's with me, and I miss him when we're apart.  Alas, some things have to be done.  

He's kennel trained, but is prone to barking and crying if life isn't completely perfect.  He eventually gets over it, but not without a lot of noise and stress on the other sleepers in the house.  I could be surprised, but I'd be willing to bet a great deal that whoever kept him, if his routine was followed, would not get much sleep.  

On to the new habit:  we're letting him sleep out in the living room.  He still seems to be kennel trained, because I open up the door and he goes right in and lays down.  I don't shut it behind him, and then I go in my room and go to bed myself.  He seems fine with this arrangement.  A minute or so after I've gone in my room, I hear his tenative footsteps on the hardwood floors, and listen as he gets settled.  I think he thinks he's getting away with something, which is fine with me as long as he knows to be sneaky, and therefore, behaves himself.  

We decided it was a good idea to go ahead and start this new habit this week, so that my mom has an easier time with him next weekend.

Last night, as I sat in bed and read with him at the foot of the bed, he looked at me knowingly and I thought, even if it isn't any good, that I ought to occasionally try and record his thoughts.  It's not going to be profound or meaningful (or at least I doubt it will be) like Don Miller's Lucy Blogs, but I thought I owe it to him to at least try to decipher his thoughts.  He looks at me with so much trust and with heavy thoughts behind his brown eyes.  His little tan eyebrows express such feeling that there has to be more than raw animal instinct going on in his head contrary to what many people believe.