(picture is of Taylor)
Taylor chose to take her morning meal in her office, or in everyday parlance, the laundry room. As always, I had to rouse her from her evening sleep spent under the covers in my bed, never an easy task as she likes to sleep in most mornings. She never goes outside right away because the synergy has to be just right.
She sticks her nose out the patio door and sniffs the air; she isn’t fond of cold weather. She views the deck and its surrounding fenced area with trepidation. Perhaps someone or something has moved in during the night upsetting the balance of her yard. Are the birds too noisy, or not noisy enough? Where is the puppy? She won’t go outside unless the puppy is in her crate.
No one likes to get jumped from behind when they are in the middle of their morning crap. Roxy, a/k/a the puppy, finds the prospect of tackling an immobile Taylor alluring and downright fun. Hence, the crate.
Taylor is standing on the deck now, listening, and moving stealthily toward the ramp we had built for the dogs. I’m standing with her doing my morning soliloquy of “Look Taylor! Santa’s in the yard. No, it’s a squirrel! Get it, Taylor!!! She’s close now. The whine of a lawnmower fills the air and she aborts and runs back into the house.
Better luck next time.