Patty, my sister who lives in a suburban Chicago, phoned this evening. Her area is getting clobbered by the snow and high winds that are hitting a big chunk of the States. She just loves [NOT] cold weather. I chuckled remembering how the inside of my nose used to freeze walking to school when I grew up there. Patty's been enjoying that effect just a bit too much to appreciate the humor in it.
While we were catching up on her family, their golden doodle, Tucker started his daily bone-walk. Say what? Apparently, he started the ritual some time ago with a special bone. There are no teeth marks on the bone because it is not for that purpose. It only comes into play during the late evening.
When it's time to go to bed, Tucker searches for the bone-walk bone. Sometimes it's under someone's bed, in the basement or it could be anywhere in the house. He then carries it through every occupied room to alert the family that it's time to go to bed. [shades of ye olde towne cryer -- hear yee, hear yee -- it's time to hit the hay!] He keeps this up until someone gets the hint and starts heading upstairs to the bedrooms.
This evening older daughter, Bethany, followed his lead up the stairs and headed into her bedroom. As happens every night, Tucker then places the bone somewhere out of the way and goes to bed with whomever has followed him.
Patty said he even has a distinctive walk during this ritual. His toenails sound different on the wood floors. By this point, I was weeping with laughter picturing that big doofus of an adorable dog doing his thing. He's incredibly smart and usually gets his way because he's so darned cute and loveable.
This is Tucker and Bailey, Bethany's new Westie. It took Tucker a while to understand that Bethany is no longer his exclusive property. Now the two of them are best furry friends and enjoy romping in the snow in their new, stylish outerwear. I'd give anything to be there to throw snowballs for them!