I like to think that I’m smarter than my dogs are. Sometimes, I’m not so sure.
We’re gearing up for a cross-country move — Monday May 7th, Moose and Lally and I will be hitting the road in New Jersey and landing in Oregon by Friday. Even though they haven’t packed any boxes, they know something is going on.
The signs may (or may not) be subtle. The house is messier than usual as I organize, sort, pack, and get rid of stuff. But the basic routine is still the same. The alarm goes off at 8 am and we head out into the yard. Breakfast around 8:30, and then I head upstairs to the office to work. There may be a few boxes and piles in the way of their usual napping spots, but nothing too out of the ordinary.
At least… I thought it wasn’t too out of the ordinary.
Lally especially has been keeping a close eye on me. Like when she knows I’m heading out of the house because I’m wearing shoes (around the house, I’m usually barefoot) — she seems to know something unusual is going on. Maybe she doesn’t know exactly what, but she knows it’s something.
I wonder if it is the little changes in the usual routine, or something deeper catching her attention. Does she remember when we left the apartment in Vermont more than three years ago? I’m reusing some of the same boxes — do they smell like our old home?
Times like this, I wish my dogs could talk. Especially Lally. Not a whole lot fazes Moose; he’s just a “go with the flow” kind of dog. I’m sure he’ll be okay on the road and in our new home. Lally, I’m not so sure. Will she miss New Jersey? Will she pine for the family and friends here? I wonder what she’s thinking underneath those Shar-Pei wrinkles on her forehead.