Last night, I took the Wonder Husky upstairs to visit her Dad. Earl was recovering from some needle biopsies and wasn’t feeling too hot.
Huskies shed year round, so the two we’ve had in our 27-year marriage have not been allowed past the kitchen. They get the family room and the kitchen. They were trained to not go past the kitchen floor onto the dining room carpet. It’s a guilty dog that goes past the border. They also aren’t allowed on the furniture.
Keli was better at this, and we removed the baby gate when she was still a pup. Tipper at 12 still needs the physical boundary. She sneaks into the living room to leave a doglog if we are not watchful. When the carpet was new two years ago, she christened it with her own champaign.
Tip looked guilty as I took her across the boundary yesterday. It was tough for her to get up the stairs. She is getting arthritic which is sad, because the ever-present, smiling Husky “let’s go!” attitude is still there. Her spirit is willing, but the body is reluctant.
When she came back downstairs, I recalled her most ridiculous sneaky dog antic. Years ago, I felt that Tipper was crawling onto the couch in the family room for a nap when we weren’t home. I would come home from school and feel the couch, which was warm to the touch.
One day I decided to test my theory. When I got home from teaching school, I crept through the bushes and sneaked quietly up to the family room window. Sure enough, there on the couch, Tip was snoozing with the cats. I knocked softly on the window getting her attention, waving at her as if to say, “Busted!”
In the time it took me to unlock the doors to get in the house, not only was Tipper in her crate, but she was faking sleep and “woke up” to greet me. I had to hand it to her, that was one smooth trick.