Chienne's Search & Rescue

If you visited and I showed you the basement, we could walk down a flight of stairs clad in soft, shaggy carpet. Upon reaching the landing, there would be two steps to either side of us. Moving down the pair to the left would leave you in the unfinished half, looking at the storage and laundry space. If instead we turned right, we'd continue on the carpet toward the living area - oversized sofa and loveseat, lots of plump pillows and bookcases filled with novels.

About midway along the center wall, there is an entrance to a bathroom. Said room has two doors - one opens to the living half, one to the storage/laundry half. Therefore, if I stood in the bathroom and was talking to you as you stood in the living area, and I then closed the door for some reason, you would not be cruelly separated from me forever. You could simply walk back toward the stairs, over the landing and approach the bathroom from the door that remained open to the storage room.

Chienne doesn't get that.

She's pretty much a guaranteed presence in the bathroom with me so we often work on tricks. I have her sit or offer her paw to shake and then I praise her lavishly and rub her favorite spot. I decided that it might be cool to see how long it took her to figure out the double entrances to the bathroom. I mean, there are clearly two doors and she's walked through the room multiple times in the couple months we've lived here. How hard could it be?

Really Freaking Hard.

I go in the bathroom and she follows. I coax her out one of the doors and close it, taking one last glimpse of a befuddled and very sad face. Then I call for her. And she begins to howl with the pain and frustration of our separation, sitting just outside the closed door. I giggle for a moment (because I'm a bad person and rather bored of late) and then I move into the opposite room so my voice is closer to the stairs. The howling stops and I can imagine her floppy ears perking with interest. Then she runs toward me with the joy only dogs seem to achieve and we reunite with many cuddles and compliments.

After three times of this same process, I thought she'd certainly have it figured out. Pretty simple - door shuts, I call, she runs over stairs and to opposite door, gets to see me! But, no. Steps 1 and 2 went as planned and she did make it to the stairs. But something must have distracted her since she went bounding up them rather than just over the landing.

I frowned, realizing neither of us was that bright. Chienne noisily hunted for me throughout the house. I heard her climb the stairs to the bedrooms then scramble back down them. She ran circles on the main floor, wondering where I'd hidden myself. And I stood in the dark bathroom, waiting for my playmate to return so we could learn this lesson!

I sat on the closed lid of the toilet and crossed my legs. I wondered if my ankle had healed properly and rotated it while I frowned. My expression shifted to happiness when I heard Chienne's tags jingle as she ran down the stairs once again. I called her name and her paws slid on the tile when she finally reached me.

"Hi!" I greeted her. "Who's my good girl?" She wagged her tail frantically, wiggling closer when I bent over to kiss her head. "You're terrible at this game," I offered when she looked up at me, but I grinned when her enthusiasm continued, undaunted by my honest assessment.

"Good lesson for me," I said, smiling at her enthusiasm and happiness. "Keep jumping through the hoops randomly set before you and find some joy in doing so." And with that thought, I'm off to another quick trip for work. Back Tuesday!