Escape Artist

By Sheri Bull

A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of.
~Ogden Nash

If you happened to go by my house this morning, you might have seen me climbing out a window. My home has two very usable doors, but instead I removed a window screen and crawled outside. The reason for my behavior has to do with my dog.

I am the owner of a nine-year-old yellow Lab. I will never forget the day my husband told our three young daughters that he was bringing home a surprise. He took out from his jacket a little bundle of golden fur with a tail that would not quit wagging, and from that moment on, Sundance stole each of our hearts.

Sundance loves to be a part of my daily activities, and has learned by watching me just what the day may hold. If I have my work shoes on, chances are I will be working in my garden and he will be living up to the retriever part in his name by catching the weeds I pull and throw. If I am barefoot in the summer, he seems to know I intend to sit in my swing and read or write, in which case he will pant next to me, napping, instead of enjoying the comfort of air conditioning.

However, I think Sundance's favorite activity is running with me. When I tie on my running shoes his ears perk up, he wiggles his bottom, and he stays at my heels until we are out the door. In his youth, we would go four miles together, but he has aged and now his limit is two miles, which isn't bad considering in human years he is over sixty years old.

I often go the two miles and take him with me, but occasionally, I like to run three or four and therefore leave him behind. When I get back, he follows me around with a droopy tail and sad eyes which seem to say, "What did I do wrong? Why didn't you take me along?"

Since I cannot bear to hurt my buddy, I have tried to trick him. He sleeps in our laundry room, which is also one of the entrances to our home. If I leave soon enough in the morning, I can sneak out the front door and get back before he gets up. Lately though, he has caught on to the sound of the front door opening and barks and whines until I get back. Then he proceeds to pout for hours. Fortunately, the window has been working just fine, as long as I change my incriminating clothes before I greet him.

Some people wonder why I would go through all this trouble. After all, Sundance is "just a dog." Well, he is more than just a dog to me. He has become one of my most perceptive friends. He senses when I am having a bad day and quietly stays by my side or puts his chin on my lap. He is aware of my good days and the mood changes as we wrestle and play. My loving Lab does not care if I do not wear make-up, have bad breath, or suffer a bad hair day. He does not notice if I sing off-key or judge me if I swear; he just faithfully stays by my side.

I have learned much from my loyal Labrador Retriever. Too often I have judged others or held back affection because of looks, smell, or actions, all the time never considering the circumstances in their life. Thanks to Sundance, I have come to realize two of our basic human desires are to be loved and enjoyed. My finest days are when I have been with my best friends who love me and want to be with me. My best friends come in the form of: my husband, special women, my family members, and yes, Sundance.

So, do not be alarmed if you happen to go by a house in the wee hours of the morning and see a middle-aged woman escaping through a window. She is just protecting the feelings of a beloved friend.

http://www.chickensoup.com