Dogs

I love my dogs. My home is happier because of my dogs. My son, who struggles to connect with people, connects with my dogs. But one, the dog I still think of as a puppy, even though he is about to turn two years old, has decided he's a front-door dog. We let them out through the patio door, and when they are ready to come back, they are supposed to use the same patio door. But Rudy now uses the front door. Like he's a guest or a vacuum cleaner salesman. So now I have to go to the patio to let Hazel in (good girl Hazel), then to the front door to let Rudy in.

I suppose this seems like a trivial whine. It is. My life is pretty good.