In the dog house

With the weekend forecast calling for bitter cold temperatures, I have to wonder if my lovable mutt Molly will continue to follow her stubborn ways and sleep in the dog house in the back yard, or if she will finally break down and crawl into an awaiting abode inside the garage.

In an effort to spoil Miss Molly, my dad bought her a different dog house a month or so ago – an igloo house. I’m sure he bought it for a bargain – it was an auction find after all, but it’s a bargain my Molly just isn’t willing to use.

I don’t know if it’s the shape that scares her – or maybe that her finicky nose notes a smell of an unfamiliar dog. Never-the-less, she refuses to step foot inside the thing. Even an armful of straw and a blanket added to the interior did nothing to persuade her.

In winters past, Molly has always spent her nightly slumber in the garage, cuddled up like a baby atop her camouflage pillow, the purple rag rug or her favorite floral quilt – the one she stole off the neighbor’s clothesline as a puppy. (I blame myself for that one – my long work hours were not acceptable to a puppy who so wanted to be played with!)

Now, with the odd-looking igloo sitting in her traditional sleeping spot between the car and the truck, Molly would just rather head outdoors to the more normal looking square dog house. It is the same house that her favorite puppy pal, my parents’ dog Misty, died in little more than a year ago.

When she’s not in her outside dog house, Molly has been spending more and more time inside my parents’ house – probably more time than she spends in the garage. Chalk it up to “grandparents” who I think kind of enjoy seeing Molly sprawl across the black rug by the living room.

When we were growing up, pets in the house were an absolute no-no. Oh sure, I’d sneak a kitten in every now and then, and sometimes a mother goat’s rejection led to a baby goat being housed in a cardboard box for a night or two by the kitchen door. No more than two nights though – they didn’t want their house smelling like a barn.

With Molly, the in-house visits generally don’t last for more than 5 or 10 minutes, although I think it was just last week when Mom mentioned that she fell asleep in the chair and Molly was indoors for more than an hour, no doubt taking a little nap herself while listening to the ramblings of CNN reporters.

I’m beginning to wonder if these recent house dog sessions are prepping Molly for a possible move to town to stay with me full-time once again. Oh, how I would love to have her here to keep me company in the evenings. I’d give her a bath so she didn’t smell like a farm dog, buy her a new doggie pillow so she could sleep underneath the dining room table, and buy a leash so she can get me out of the house to go for a walk every night.

On second thought, maybe I’ll wait until spring before I give this any more thought. While Molly may not mind sleeping outside in the dog house this time of year, it’s too darn cold for me to be going outside for a walk in the dark!

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