It’s Friday and as usual I am sitting on the stairway landing, staring out the window. Technically, I am not allowed up the stairs. But I’m not on the second floor yet, so I figure that the landing is a nice compromise. Through the window I can see my neighbors’ front yard and the sidewalk. I couldn’t care less about being sociable to my neighbors, but the sidewalk is of great interest to me in the evenings.
I have a powerful internal clock. For instance, I know that exactly 9:30 p.m. I go to bed and at 12:05 a.m. I wake up for a drink of water. I know that in exactly two minutes Alpha Dad should walk up the sidewalk. I lay down on the landing and wait.
When I’m waiting for Alpha Dad to come home, two minutes is a very long time. I count the seconds by thumping my tail against the wall. One, two, three. I lose count of the numbers- arithmetic is no interest of mine. I’ve heard that patience is a virtue, but I know that basset hounds don’t need virtues, whatever they are.
Cat scampers down the stairs behind me. It’s not fair- how come a fat and rude creature like Cat is allowed upstairs and I’m not? The injustice of this all distracts me for a moment, but soon my focus is back on the sidewalk.
Sure enough, there is Alpha Dad walking up the sidewalk. I rush down the stairs and to the back door, which I scratch with my paw until Sister Fairy lets me out. I pounce out of the bushes just as Alpha Dad opens the gate.
“Woof!” I say, jumping on Alpha Dad. My internal clock informs me that it is time for my a belly rub.