Tonight's twlight, as seen during my walk with Ranger. Little did I know what plans were taking shape in his head as I innocently strolled along.
Before dawn this morning, I was greeted by the sound of my dog standing at the side of my bed and whimpering for my attention.
Not my favorite way to start the day.
Cmon boy, Jump up. I patted the bed in what I hoped was an enticing manner. At five a.m, I'm never entirely sure what I'm doing.
He jumped up and settled down. But a few snatches of sleep later, he was back at the side of the bed, crying plaintively, swatting at anything in sight in his most desperate attempt to get me to do what he wants.
But I had no idea what the heck he wanted.
Cmon boy. Jump up.
We went back and forth like this for hours. Finally, around eight, after Ranger had switched up his strategy and stomped out into the hall to bark while standing at the top of the stairs, I gave in. Wrapping myself up in the comforter against the damp and dreary morning chill, I put my feet on the floor and forced myself to follow my now-delighted dog down the stairs and, presumably, over to the back door.
We were halfway down the stairs when I opened my eyes far enough to notice. My dog had an extra spring in his step, a sassy bounce, an elevated sense of swag. Suddenly I realized why.
Ranger was prancing along with a chew bone in his mouth.
Yes. That chew bone. The one he had taken outside over two weeks ago and buried in the back yard. The one that was now covered in dirt and trailing bits of bark as my besotted dog carried it down the stairs.
Suddenly it all made sense.
On his early morning bathroom break, Ranger had dug up his bone. My husband later confirmed that indeed, Ranger had shown up at the back door around 4:45 a.m., ready to come back in, with his precious possession held between his little white teeth. My husband took mercy on him, and uncharacteristically let the little red gentleman march his filthy treasure up the stairs and into my bed.
Yes, the well-aged chew treat had been IN my bed. Further inspection turned up a layer of unspeakable debris strewn through the layers of my bed covers, as Ranger had undoubtedly attempted to bury his bone in my bed. Unsatisfied with his efforts, Ranger had been after me all morning to take him back downstairs and out into the yard where he could return his treasure to a suitably safe spot.
Oh good lord.
So finally, finally, I let my dog out into the misty morning, and he soon returned with an empty mouth and a dirty little nose, a sure sign that he had well and properly buried his bone. And I trusted that he would leave it alone for a good long time, while he thought up some new indoor hiding places.
But on that count, I was completely wrong.
Because when I went up to my room tonight and turned down the covers, what do you think I found?
Yes. Ranger's dirty chew treat. Buried once again in my bed.