Toby the Puppy has an affliction that my wife and I cannot cure.
He suffers from acute cabin fever.
Unfortunately, given that he’s so fluent in English — and we sense that he isĀ learning how to spell — we have to be very careful when we speak within earshot of our puppy.
We cannot say the word “walk.” We have to spell it out whenever we’re in his presence, which usually is, well, all the time. That’s how he is. He shadows his mother mostly; me … some of the time.
The cabin fever has become quite acute as the weather has turned nasty here in the Texas Panhandle. We can’t take him for W-A-L-Ks when it’s rainy, cold and windy. Thus, he demonstrates his fidgetiness by demanding we go outside.
How does he do that? He sends us signals only my wife and I can interpret. He stands in front of us, tail wagging, looking anxious; if we stand up, he twirls around and heads for the closet door where we hang his leash.
If only we could do something about the weather. We cannot. We keep telling him of that fact. He doesn’t seem to listen … or care.
Patience is the order of the day.
And for many days ahead.