We have shelves along a wall just beyond the foyer that hold mainly books. There are two baskets on the shelves though; one for keys and one for dog leashes.
I moonlight as a bartender a few nights a week, and tonight was one of them, so I'm home (and up) late. As I ate a late dinner, my dog, Pete cried. For purposes of the humor value of this story, he is not allowed to be near the table, nor is he allowed to beg when eating is taking place. So, his persistence was at the least annoying; moreso, it was perplexing.
I couldn't figure out what he was trying to tell me and he wouldn't let it go. I checked his water dish and rinsed and filled it - it wasn't what he wanted. He just looked at me very intently, as dogs seem to do when they want whatever it is that you can't seem to give them. I asked if he needed to go outside, and he RAN to the shelves, to the basket that holds leashes and stood on his hind legs with his nose almost touching the basket. I walked over there and realized that about 6 inches of one of his leashes was hanging over the edge of the basket, and he could see it. I don't know how long that 6 inches of leash tormented him...
Pete wanted to go for a walk AT THREE FORTY FIVE AM. I giggled, then laughed - loudly - all-by-myself-in-the-middle-of-night. Then proceeded to tuck the end of the leash back into the basket.
I did take him outside just now, but we did not go for a walk.
- ▼ February (7)