Discovering My Inner Dog

chicoRon and Lorie have been concerned about me for a while now. Oh, it’s nothing serious–it’s not like I suddenly started swallowing the eyes I rip out of my stuffed animals or anything like that–it’s just they think I’ve forgotten how to be a dog.

I still do “dog things.” I’ve made an art form out of lifting my leg to mark every tree and fire hydrant, fence and lamppost and, well, pretty much any structure I see.

I chase the squirrels out of our yard like nobody’s business. And I’m the reigning world champion at tug-of-war. But all of these activities involve other species–either humans or squirrels–but never other dogs.

I don’t mind dogs–I mean I’ll bark at them and sniff them to see whether they’re boy-dogs or girl-dogs, but I really don’t play with them. Maybe it’s because I haven’t spent a lot of time with other dogs because of my responsibilities in the business. (I’m the Chief of Security.)

Whenever Ron and Lorie try to “socialize” me by taking me to the Dog Park, I’m more interested in marking my territory than in playing. I mean, with so many dogs there, it’s super important to let them know exactly whose fence it is.

But last week something different happened. We had a small storm pass through our neighborhood that took out our electricity for an hour. Since Ron and Lorie couldn’t work (no electricity = no Internet) they decided to take me on a walk.

Right down the street, some of our neighbors were hanging out in the back yard of one of their houses with their dogs, “Archie” and “Carter.”

They invited us all to join them, and, for the first time in a while, I started playing with the other dogs. I don’t know what it was–maybe it was the fenced-in yard, maybe it’s because I had met them on the street during one of my walks, but something that day made it seem like the right time to play.

Sometimes a change in scenery is all you need to try something you’ve been wanting to or to do something you should be doing.