Silly dogs

So I’m just sitting quietly at my desk, minding my own business, when my dogs start barking, Vociferously. I see that my nephew is driving the lawn mower back and forth, to mulch the leaves in the yard. I open the door and, according to their custom, Benedict and Rosamund rush outside, barking. Vociferously.

Benedict: Barking is my almost-favorite thing (second only to treats).

Beatrice, who is clever, has been pretending that she too wants to run outside, but when the door is open she hangs back. She knows that if the other two are not around to act jealous, I will let her cuddle up to me while I hold her in the crook of my arm. So I close the door and sit with Beatrice at my desk.

Beatrice: All I want is to be warm and cozy.

Soon the outdoor barking stops, even though my nephew is still driving the lawnmower. I peep out the window in the door and there are Benedict and Rosamund wanting to come back in. I let them in and they rush to the couch and armchair and start barking towards the window. Although they are not clever, they are not entirely without intelligence, and they have decided it’s much more enjoyable to bark in a warm room while standing on cushy furniture than to bark outside in the cold. I open the door to see if they’ll go outside again, but they come running just to stand by the open door and bark from there.

Rosamund: I'm just a hyper little dog.

So I pick up a bag of treats and lead all three of them down the hall, reward them for going into their crates, shut the crate doors, and give them each a chewstick. I close the blinds and leave the room, closing the door behind me, hoping they will settle down to a nap. That’s where they are now. The lawnmower is put away and all is quiet indoors and out, except every so often Benedict gives a yell. Quiet, boy.