Spencer just got home from his evening walk. I did not take him on an evening
walk. No one took him. He just decided that he would like to go on a walk and he
did. I have no idea how he got out of the house. I mean, I called him and Emma
to come outside while I took the laundry off the line, but he refused. Emma came
out and stood guard against the next door neighbor’s dogs. I love her for being
so very protective, but the neighbor’s dogs are gentle, sweet mutts, so her
protective instinct is unnecessary, but I will never tell her that. She reminds
me of the old army general who still believes he’s in combat.
When I was done with the laundry, Emma and I came back in. I assumed Spencer was
upstairs with the kids, farting up a storm. I came upstairs and sat down to
watch Grey’s. Cecelia came upstairs and was acting funny. She was jumping up on
my desk, and then she attached herself to my bedroom screen. Like full body,
spread eagle. That was strange. But she is a strange cat, so whatever. Then she
stood in the hallway and meowed like she was trying to tell me something….what
is it girl? Is Spencer down the street?
Being the non confrontational person I am, I just ignored her antics. I did
start to wonder where Spencer was. He usually makes the rounds at bedtime. He
will stay with the littlest kid till she falls asleep, then he goes into the
center child’s room till she shuts off her light. Then he comes into my room and
snores and farts until I kick him out at which point he goes and scratches and
whines until the oldest wakes up and opens her door to let him in. The oldest is
the only one of us with the combination of big bed/ tolerance for Spencer so he
usually winds up in there with her. But tonight, I haven’t heard his farts,
snores, or floor shaking crash when he lays down. I assume that he is downstairs
getting into the garbage. Haven’t I learned not to assume? Because when you
assume you make an “ass” out of “u” and “me” = ass/u/me.
I wasn’t too concerned. All the doors were shut and locked and I knew he hadn’t
come out with me and Emma. Maybe he is having some alone time on the couch. He
is 12 years old now, sometimes he just needs to be by himself, on the couch
where he is not allowed to be. All of the sudden, I hear the screen door bang.
Odd, I think to myself. All the kids are in bed, asleep. Maybe it was the
wind….then I hear a bang on the front door. How very strange this is. Then I
hear Spencer barking. Outside. Really? No. Can’t be MY dog outside my front
door, barking to be let in. Because MY dog knows he is not allowed out on his
own. MY dog knows to go on a walk he needs to be with a grown up and on a leash.
MY dog can’t really osmos through a solid door. It can’t be MY dog.
I open the front door and Spencer trots in like it’s everyday that he takes off
for an hour and a half and then knocks at the front door to be let in. He heads
straight for the water dish, no remorse, no explanation. He assumed that I would
come let him in when he knocked. Spencer is the only male who continues to
surprise me. Just when I think he is too old for mischief, I find him knocking
at the front door. Lord knows he peed on all of the spring tulips on the block.
I know he got into someone’s garbage and no doubt he rolled in something dead.
When will I learn that Spencer is who he is and no amount of talking or
explaining will change him. He is 84 dog years old now and he feels he has
reached an age of maturity where he gets to decide what he does with his time.
And isn’t that what we all want? We all strive for the age where we are able to
go where we want,when we want, without having to answer to anyone. And we all
want someone to be there when we come home, to open the door for us. Spencer is
a lucky dog. I think it’s time he had his own house key.