My wife and I have been catering to Toby the Puppy for a little more than three years. We’ve grown used to spoiling our newest family addition.

Our lives have changed since we moved full time into our fifth wheel. I mean to say “all” of our lives: mine, my much better half’s and Toby the Puppy.

Here’s the deal. When we were living like a “normal” family in a house with walls and doors, all the puppy had to do was traipse outside whenever he felt like it. That presumes, of course, that the weather would allow us to keep the back door open for him to take care of his, um, business. If not, well, we were at his disposal.

The fifth wheel presents another set of concerns for us.

Puppy cannot just go outside. The RV park in Amarillo — just like every RV park where we’ve stayed — mandates dogs must be on a leash. He cannot run around on his own.

No sweat. We get the rule.

My wife and I do spend a lot of time during the course of a day leashing Toby up and taking him outside.

How do we know when it’s time? He “tells” us, more or less.

Since the puppy doesn’t speak English (even though he understands it as well as most human beings I know), he speaks to us with body language and a most expressive face.

He might walk over to either my wife or myself. He’ll start to scratch our leg. We’ll ask, “Do you have to go outside?” Then he’ll shoot a glance usually to the other parent whose leg he isn’t scratching.

We leash him up, take him outside, follow him around the neighborhood, wait for him to, um, “mark” every bit of territory he feels like marking and then we return to our RV. If he has some serious “business” to complete outside, well, he does that, too.

We’re getting used to this increased level of catering Toby the Puppy demands of us. When we resettle eventually in a permanent location, then we’ll have to re-learn how to merely let him have his complete run of the place.

We’ll figure it out … quickly.