The Day my Dog Cried

IT WAS AS IF she knew.  Bags were being packed.  Running gear was driving her crazy with the prospect of a run but then it was being put away.  Toothbrushes were flung into another bag alongside mobile phone and DS chargers.    But she wasn’t interested in any of that.

It was the suitcases and the harried activity that had piqued her curiousity.  Something was afoot and she wasn’t sure that she liked it.

Probably the most disconcerting thing of all was when her food and a large blanket were put in the car.

Then her lead was plucked from under the stairs and she could hardly contain her excitement.

She knew it!  Something was definitely afoot.  Still not sure what exactly but the lead always meant a run somewhere.  She jumped into the car without a backward glance. 

Bitch! 

She was off to doggy camp for the week.  Because her humans were going on holidays.  

Without her.  But she was oblivious to this.

The boys had expressed mild distress about their pet going to the kennels.  Would she be okay?  Are there other people there?  Where will she sleep?  Who will feed her?  Will she be fed?  What will she do all day?

I was glad I wasn’t the only one with concerns.  The dog had been sick – a kidney infection – and was very out of sorts.  She perked up considerably after three days and some anti-biotics.  She had been glued to me that week.  Even slept by my side of the bed.  I couldn’t go upstairs or to the bathroom without her shadowing me.

But now she was going to a strange place because her humans were off to the beach. 

It was time for her to go and on Mister Husband’s return I asked him how she went.  What’s it like down there?

“Oh, a proper Auschwitz,” was his reply.  And when he saw my face he said, “She’s grand.  It’s fine.”

I told him his back pedalling came too late.  “You wait till you’re in your nursing home.  You’ll laugh then, I tell ya.   If you are on an anti-biotic I’ll tell them they have my full permission for one person to hold your nose and another to force open your jaw.  How about that? And I’ll tell them you love suppositories, too.  Yes, I will.  Plus you reckon ammonia is great for softening the skin.  No need to change those incontinence pads.”  I pointed my finger at him.  “You. Just. Wait.”

And then we drove off to our rented holiday home.  Smallest Boy got upset a couple of times and asked to come home and to get our Juno girl. 

We assured him she was okay at her doggy camp and he would see her soon.  I sent a text to Dougie in the kennels on Monday morning and his swift response assured us that she was indeed fine.  She had made friends with an identical twin – the only way to tell them apart was by their red and blue collars.

That seemed to put their minds at rest and they proceeded with the job in hand which was to enjoy their holidays.

They did and before we knew it, I was telling them tomorrow was the last day. Lots of “aawwwws” ensued but there was no denying it.  All good things must come to an end and then we were at the gates of the kennels and she was at the other side.

Crying when she saw us.

Did you know dogs could cry?  I knew they could howl in anger, fear and excitement but up till then I didn’t know they could cry.  She didn’t shed tears or anything but she whined.  And whined and keened and licked whatever part of my hands she could get at through the wires.

Then the gates were open and she was jumping up on me, licking my face, my hands, still whining and keening. 

The car door was left open and she darted in to say hello to everyone else.

She spent the two minute drive home with her head stuck out the car window, sniffing the air and when we arrived home, she was the first one out of the car and up to the door.

We went in and she has remained stuck to my side ever since.

Dogs can cry.  Who knew?

I certainly didn’t.