“If he doesn’t want in, I don’t want in.”

GhostFor most of the day, Ghost is his own dog. He decides whether he wants to humor me in anything I “suggest” – and “Come here” is not a suggestion he’s terribly fond of.

But he’s still a dog, and he likes affection. Mornings – every single morning – he starts whining to go outside as soon as he hears me stir up in the loft, and I’m graded on the speed with which I get my ass down the ladder. He doesn’t want to be petted, or talked to, or anything: Just open the damn door. But then fifteen minutes or half an hour later, he wants in and then he wants to be petted and fussed over – and then, more often than not, he wants right back outside. Only then is the morning off to a good start, in his educated opinion.

But sometimes he takes his cues from Little Bear. Often as not I have to shove LB out the door, and he waits at the door to be let right back in. So when Ghost wants in, LB usually crowds the stairs right with him. Every now and then, though, Ghost will whine to be let in, I’ll open the door, Ghost will come flying inside, but LB will stand outside and refuse to enter. When that happens, Ghost goes right back out and won’t come in until LB wants to.

I may never know what that’s all about.

About Joel

You shouldn't ask these questions of a paranoid recluse, you know.
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One Response to “If he doesn’t want in, I don’t want in.”

  1. MamaLiberty says:

    “I may never know what that’s all about.”

    Trust me, you won’t… ever. I have had lots and lots of dogs over the years, and they all drive me nuts with this sort of thing. Laddie, my current companion, absolutely loves to go to the door, ask to go out, then stand there sniffing the breeze for a while. Sometimes he goes out, and sometimes he backs up and returns to his warm bed in the office. Drives me nuts any time, but especially if it’s below zero with a stiff wind. That door is hard to hold onto then!!

To the stake with the heretic!