Empty Doorway

A few weeks ago while we were on vacation, Socks stepped out and never came home.

Although neither Sandy nor I are really enthusiastic pet owners, we both missed him and kept thinking we heard or saw him, and both of us dreamed several times that he came home. Aside from our efforts to provide acceptable provisions, and to aid in his quest for the right side of every door, there were several regularly ocurring ritual events that were part of the normal week, and the loss of each of them struck me several times. Here are a few that stand out now.

He had the particularly annoying habit of walking out to greet us when we were pulling up in the driveway, and then casually sauntering into, and around in, the path of the car so we would have to sit and wait for him to get good and ready to move his hairy butt out of the way so we could park the car and get out.

On trash day, each time I returned from wheeling one of the containers out to the street, he would walk directly into my path so I could bend over and pay his road toll of a few strokes long his back.

When I went out to mow the lawn, he loved to assist me by sleeping where I had not yet mowed, and if promped to move, he would begrudgingly relocate - but only to another un-mowed spot.

Socks wasn't very playful in his old age, but he seemed to enjoy our company. He liked to be with us, but of course he maintained an air of indifference. I remember how he followed Ellen around when she came to visit, but always seemed to be looking at something else, and if Sandy and I took a blanket or some chairs out on the lawn under the tree, he would inevitably end up close by, and then turn his back to us. We never were sure if this was to clarify our status, or to do his part to provide for the common good - facing out from the center of the group to keep watch for any neighborhood threats that might approach from his side .