I'll tell you a little story about my dachshund Henry, because he's my other kid. We wake up early, really early every morning. I make the coffee, he goes outside to do his business. Then we get Julia up and get her ready for school. He sits in the front yard and waits for the bus with us. Always has, even as a puppy.
His big treat every day is a walk around the block. One day in the fall I forgot he had gone out front after a neighbor had stopped by, and later couldn't find him. I frantically combed the neighborhood, drove around the block with my head out the window just hoping he'd show up. Sure enough, he was on the sidewalk taking his own little walk without me. I tried to get him to come to the car, but he became scared and ran off. I drove up the house and there he was on the front porch waiting . . . as if it'd never happened. "Did you notice anything missing?" I asked, picking him up. "Like . . . me, for instance?"
A few weeks ago he got out when a salesman came around, and an hour later I hear a bark at the door. I let him in, just sure he'd taken his own little walk again. "Oh hi Henry. How was it?"
He was going to do it again today. I saw him heading for the sidewalk, ears all perked and legs in a jaunty trot. "Oh no you don't. Come here." I slipped the harness around his neck and tied him up. All he had to wait was about five minutes for Liam to get on the bus, then we—WE—would take our walk.
Anyone else have a dog story? I know Cro might! Lay 'em on me.