Dogs, bones, and bed

January in the Northwest this year has been wet. As in every day it rained. With four dogs, I made the executive decision to keep them mostly inside during January. My thought processes was maybe this would cut down on some of the mud and wet dog smell.

Though the wet dog smell still permeated the entire house, the mud was reduced to a tolerable level. Thus, when February brought sunny skies, I gleefully kicked them outside to enjoy the sun. If I had to suffer all day indoors with only artificial light, then my dogs could at least have the pleasure of frolicking in fresh air and glorious sunbeams.

Day eight of February and no rain. The routine begins. I am dressed and ready to head out to the trenches to make enough money to provide for their very existence. I holler their names, "Rudy, Riley, Sam, molly. COME"

Three of the four pour out the door excited and anticipating the treat they know comes every morning prior to my departure. All but Sam. I call again, "Sammy...come." Still no Sam. I tell the others to stay. They looked annoyed but wait patiently. Probably because they see the four large frozen bones turning my hand blue.

I find Sam sprawled out on his bed snoozing away. I sharply say, "SAM!" He lazily looks up as if to say, "What?"
"Outside Sam. NOW" He gives me a look I can only describe as pure disdain. (How COULD I bother him while he is napping. The gall!! )

As he lumbers out the back porch he turns as if to make back for his bed, but I block his move. I then hand him his bone, which has been perched on top of the other three bones in my hand this entire time. He sniffs the bone, turns his head, I say, "Sam...take the bone." He ignores me. He gives me the “I resent you” look. “Eat the bone yourself” look.

I drop the bone into the ungrateful brute’s dish and proceed to give the other grateful canines their bones. Each of them grab for it as if it is the Holy Grail.

Sam meanders to his bowl sniffs the bone, looks one more time at me with that accusatory glance saying everything with that one look..."I got out of bed for this?"

The sad part is, as I drove off for work I really empathized with Sam. I really wanted to be in my bed too.