Why my dog is not in the dog house

“Good puppy! Good boy.”

I heard him come down the stairs joyfully carrying something he was not supposed to have. He only sounds this happy when he has contraband. I could tell by the rustling sound it wasn’t ‘nothing’, like something he had snagged from the recycling bag under my desk. Indeed, he appeared with a scrolled up watercolor my niece had painted last year at the age of three and which is giving me some inspiration for the kid’s book I am working on.

“Ohhh, no. No.” I gently chided him, not wanting him to startle and close his drooling jaws any tighter. He listened and laid it down. I leapt up and grabbed the painting, and found a croissant in the kitchen for him. He accepted the swap. Good Boy.

The puppy is growing up. He is going to be five in May but as a golden he will stay a puppy until he becomes an old man, with not much time in between, a day maybe, a week? So as soon as I celebrate this level of maturity, I may begin mourning a decline.

He was only able to get to this treasure because two weeks ago, when I again tripped over the barricade blocking my office door and nearly broke three toes, I was like “enough is enough!” I had imagined that after a few months of puppyhood the dog would settle and he would lie at my feet and dream of chasing rabbits while I typed.

But that would not be this dog. He spent his whole time trying to get his 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, and then 90 pounds into my lap. So I barricaded him out and myself in and the baskets were low enough the Blue cat could clear them and come and go as he pleased. So now the cat lies near me dreaming of chasing rabbits and the dog seems content on his bed in the hall.

But the puppy is growing up. Yesterday when I was sitting on the sofa I looked over at him where he had dragged his bed over near me in the sun and lay snoozing peacefully. My contraband fuzzy slipper socks from upstairs were tucked next to him, and as he raised his sleepy head to see if I needed something, I felt for the first time ever that he was babysitting me.

Thank you Puppy Dog.

And now he has finished his croissant and is sniffing my coffee cup and wagging his tail.
He looks like he might try to leap in my lap.
Good Boy!?