Cooper's Day Off

Ask any dog, and they’ll tell you- being the Family Dog is a 24/7 job. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love my family, and I love caring for my family. Sometimes, though, I wish the Little Ones would keep their own noses damp, or Dad would stop antagonizing that ‘Bissell’ demon. My humans need near-constant care and protection, every hour of every day of the week. Breaks are few and far in between… so you can imagine my surprise when, just the other day, I got one.

I had been just a few minutes into my midday nap when I heard my favorite human, Mom, putting on her coat. I immediately opened my eyes and lifted my head to investigate. That couldn’t be right! Mom only left during the day on School Days. We’d already had five in a row, so today was a Grass Day. Dad was in charge of bringing the Little Ones home from whatever they all did that made them smell like grass. Mom, on the other hand, stayed home the whole day.

Apparently, Mom was confused. I quickly got up to stop her from leaving, thinking that maybe if I stood between her and the door she would realize her mistake. I had no such luck. When I planted myself on the welcome mat, she just pushed past me, turning to scratch behind my ears and baring her teeth in that way that means humans are happy.

“Bye, Cooper. Be a good boy, okay?” she requested.

I sighed, wagging my tail in the affirmative. After all, when am I ever not a good boy?

Then, the strangest thing happened. Mom opened the front door, stepped outside, and closed the door behind her. That in of itself wasn’t strange. Humans unfortunately do that all the time. The strange part was she hadn’t put me in my crate.

My family always put me in my crate when I was the only one home. They never told me exactly why, but the best theory I was able come up with is they wanted me to keep an eye on the house from a stealthy and well-sheltered position. I may not have be able to see the threats coming from my crate, but I could certainly hear them. A good, loud bark was enough to ward off most intruders, and I definitely preferred to be armored in the event I had to face a more daring intruder alone. My family knew this. So why did Mom leave me out when she left?

Perhaps she was only stepping out to grab the mail. I could have sworn we had already gotten it together, but there was a chance I was wrong. I sat in front of the door to wait for her to return, but my theory was almost immediately disproven. I heard a car door close and rushed to the window just in time to see Mom’s car backing out of the driveway. I watched as it pulled out, turned down the road, and disappeared. As it did, the situation finally dawned on me.

I was being given a break!

Mom must have noticed that I had been a little frustrated lately. Never frustrated enough to lash out or quit, oh no, but enough to make me really look forward to those midday naps. Instead of taking me to my post and leaving me to defend the house, Mom must have gotten someone else to worry about it. I finally had some free time! Mom always had been my favorite human. 

I wagged my tail to myself, leaning forward and then back to stretch my legs. My midday nap could wait. I wasn’t sure how long the break would last, after all, and I was determined to make the most of every second!

Of course, the first thing I did was head for the bathroom. The excitement of the situation had me a bit thirsty, and nothing quenched an excited thirst like a long drink from the Forbidden Water Bowl. Why was it forbidden? I didn’t know, but Mom had left the bathroom door open for me, so the rules were probably suspended while I wasn’t on-duty. I gleefully put my head between the lid and the bowl, then began to lap up water, drinking my fill. My fill happened to be the same as the bowl’s, because by the time I was satisfied, it was empty. Delicious and perfectly proportioned- I really needed to find out why I was barred from it so often.

No longer thirsty, I left the bathroom and decided to go for a run. Running when the family was home was a perilous activity. Little Ones would suddenly stumble into my path, or chairs would move faster than I could dodge them. However, now that I was home alone, those were no longer issues. I could go wherever I pleased, without a hazard in sight!

I started out at a brisk jog, warming up my legs. After I had done a few laps around the house, I broke into a sprint, skillfully weaving between table legs and drifting around corners. As I grew more confident, I started practicing tighter turns and longer strides, graceful as my ancestor the wolf! My power proved to be too much for my body to contain, however, because just as I was making my fifth pass through the living room, the lamp next to the couch mysteriously fell over. The loud crash stopped me so quickly the rug beneath my feet kept going, offsetting my balance and sending me to the floor. 

I momentarily forgot I was on a break, listening for an intruder out of habit as I stood. Finding nothing amiss, I relaxed and approached the lamp to inspect the damage. The lampshade had been dented, and the glass light inside was shattered. Oh, my humans weren’t going to be happy about that, but hopefully they would understand it wasn’t my fault. The strength of my wolfish blood had just been too much for the appliance!

I was still contemplating the damage when I was suddenly distracted by a scent. It wasn’t just any scent; it was the most delectable, desirable, and downright delicious scent I ever did smell. I followed my nose toward the kitchen in a trance. The scent was sweet, slightly bitter, and blanketed with the tell-tale floury tastiness of fresh baked goods. I approached the kitchen table, and there in the center, the object of my newfound obsession sat tauntingly on a ceramic plate. I found myself standing before the glory of none other than Mom’s zucchini bread.

I’d noticed Mom making food before I laid down to nap, but I hadn’t gotten my hopes up. I had long since learned that my humans would rarely share the food they prepared for themselves. It was one of the sadder facts of life, one I would never understand. ‘Rarely’ was not ‘never’, though, and of all the foods my humans had allowed me to try, zucchini bread was the most glorious of them all.

Salivating over the smell and still energized from my run, determination settled over me. No matter what, I would have that zucchini bread before my break was over. Nothing was going to stop me.

Before I could change my mind, I leaned back on my hind legs, thrusting my front paws into the air and planting them firmly on the edge of the table. I leaned forward and opened my mouth, anticipation rushing through me. The zucchini bread was so close… and yet so far. Mom- cursedly intelligent Mom -had strategically placed the plate in the very center of the table. Even extending my tongue as far as it went, I could barely reach the ceramic edge.

After a moment of straining, I had to admit temporary defeat. I would not be deterred, mind you! I simply needed to think up a new strategy. I pushed away from the table and let myself fall back into a proper four-legged stance, immediately beginning to brainstorm. I couldn’t reach the bread from the edge of the table, so I would just have to find a way onto the table.

Preening a bit at my own genius, I began to circle the furniture. There wasn’t going to be any easy way up. The climb as it was would be nearly vertical, with no solid footholds. I could try to jump, but even my leaping skills were likely no match for the sheer height of the wooden plateau I wished to conquer. I shook my ears in frustration. If the option were sparse as things were, then I’d just have to make some of my own! With that thought in mind, I ducked under the table and began to form a plan.

Wary of the tight clearance, I carefully positioned my head between the bottom of the table and the seat of one of the kitchen chairs, much like the maneuver I used to drink from the Forbidden Water Bowl. Then, bracing as much of my weight in my legs as I could, I stepped forward.

Huzzah! Success! The chair began to move with me, putting up little resistance. I continued my advance, slowly but surely pushing the chair until it was almost entirely out from under the table. Once I had it positioned, I backed away, stepping into the open kitchen again to gaze upon my work. I had created a platform! It was smaller than I would usually like, but not so small it was useless. I just had to be cautious and not let my precision fail me.

My tail began to wag on its own accord as I lined myself up for the first jump. My heart was racing, giddy with anxious anticipation. There were only two leaps between myself and my prize. If I failed, I would be devastated. 

No, I wouldn’t fail. Failure was not an option.

I gave myself a short running start… then jumped!

Three of my four paws landed squarely on the seat of the chair, but one of my back paws missed by a fur. If it weren’t for my forward momentum allowing me a chance to scramble the rest of the way up, I surely would have fallen! The chair itself rocked threateningly on its legs. I dared not move as it swayed, then settled, slightly to the right of where it had been before. Once I was certain there would be no toppling over, I took a deep breath.

First jump, completed. Now for the second. I turned in the chair to face the table, invigorated by my restored view of the zucchini bread. My zucchini bread, to be precise, because at that point I was beyond doubt. While I would have to make my second jump without the running start of the first one, the distance was much shorter. I also only needed to get my front paws up; my back paws could follow with another, smaller jump afterward.

Almost shaking with excitement, I sprung up, planting my paws on the table’s edge once again. I carefully walked my front legs forward, then hopped the rest of the way up, standing proudly on all four paws. I had done it! I had made it onto the table!

I barked in celebration, tail wagging so hard it was becoming sore. As I reveled in my achievement, I was drawn back in by the mesmerizing smell that had driven my actions in the first place. The plate of zucchini bread sat at my feet, no longer taunting me from the edge of my reach. Without any further delay, I lowered my head, opened my mouth, and ascended to food heaven.

The world around me was lost in the haze of summer squash, sugar, and yeast. I was so absorbed in my prize I failed to hear Mom’s car pull into the driveway. I paid no mind to the opening of the front door, nor did I heed the footsteps making their way down the front hall toward the kitchen.

“COOPER!”

Uh oh. Break time, over!