The yard crew comes every other Monday to mow, blow leaves, trim bushes, etc. whatever needs done. These days it’s mainly blowing leaves/pine straw and cutting back our plants/trees, but this morning I’ve been busy, and I have a dentist appointment at 11:00, and I forgot they were coming. About 9:00 am I jumped in the shower while the dogs were asleep on the couch.
I did not close the doggy door.
About 9:10 I heard Winifred barking in my bedroom. I knew by her bark that she was afraid of something and I also knew she was on my bed. Winnie is the big, black “scary” dog. People would be more terrified of her if she weren’t a doodle, but if you just hear her, she’d kinda scary. She’s also our Covid puppy and she’s more terrified of you than you could ever be of her.
That’s when it occurred to me what was happening.
So I ran out of the shower, threw a towel around me, walked into my bedroom and there was Winnie on my bed, cuddled in the blankets, lying down, shivering, and barking like mad.
Hank the Tank (the Westie) was running up and down the stairs between Winnie scared on the bed and the doggy door. He was raging, for sure, but he was both worried about Winnie and too afraid to go outside.
That’s when I noticed the blower sound coming from the backyard and that’s when I realized I hadn’t seen Duke, he’s the senior Standard Poodle. (He’s barely a senior, he’s seven, but he hates when I call him that so I usually call him that.)
I peeked out the back door and Duke was standing in the middle of the yard as the guy was blowing all around him. He seemed content to stand in the middle of blowing leaves and pine straw and just, I dunno, enjoy the very cold breeze. And the yard crew was occasionally blowing at him while he hopped around in joy.
What the actual fuck?!
Not only did Duke let them come into the backyard (I want to think it’s because he knows them by now) but he invited them in and asked them to blow cold wind in his direction. And they obliged.
Meanwhile, Winnie was whining because I was downstairs (god forbid she come check on my safety?!) and Hank got a little too big for his britches when he realized I was with him and he started raging at them by putting just his head out the doggy door and barking, so I had to take him upstairs and lock him the room with Winnie, throw some clothes on, then go outside and yell for Duke.
In response, Duke took one look at me and turned his back to me while the guy blew cold air at his butt. I stepped barefoot out onto the cold fucking porch (it’s 34 degrees here this morning) and started screaming, “Duke, get your ass inside.” Mainly because I didn’t want him to be a nuisance and also if they had left the gate open and he caught sight he would have bolted. He likes to peruse the neighborhood any chance he gets. Thankfully one of our neighbors usually texts and says, “Duke’s in my front yard.” (eye roll)
Anyway, the yard crew saw me and waved and smiled and I mouthed, “I’m so sorry.” Because I was and because what the hell, Duke I’m gonna stab you. The dude knew what was happening so he left Duke alone. Evidently that bored Duke so he came up to the door but stood on the other side of the doggy door and looked at me until I told him he could have a treat.
This MFer.
Anyway, the moral of the story is not a single one of my three dogs would save me if I was being murdered.
Not a single one.
Melissa Goodnight 