Adventures in dog-sitting

My parents hit the road on Friday for a 10 day trip across the prairies to Nakusp B.C. This means that I get to babysit Elmo.

He let me sleep in on Saturday morning. Usually he gets mom and dad up any time between 6 a.m. and 8:30. I heard him get up at 8:30, walk around, and then come back to his spot beside my bed. What a good little dog.

I was out and about for a good part of Saturday, but made sure I got him outside before I went to bed. However, at 3:40 in the morning I heard him scratching at the door to go out. I pretended I didn't hear him. Then he came to my bedroom door and whimpered.

At my mom's and dad's, when the dog has to go outside you simply open the back door and let him into the back yard. When he is finished out there, he will scratch on the door to tell you he wants back in. My house is not set up for this. My back door opens to the driveway and the gated yard is several feet to the left. He may be older now, but he's still a beagle, which means he will follow his nose if it picks up on a bunny or a cat trail, and follow it wherever it goes. So when Elmo wants to go outside in the middle of the night, I have to put his collar on, put on shoes and a jacket, and guide him to the back yard. Then I have to stand there and wait for him to do whatever needs doing, and then guide him back into the house.

So out I went at nearly four a.m., in my penguin flannel pajamas, boots, and down jacket. He did not pee or poop. Like a little spotted cow he ate grass along the side of my house. I used the time to send my dad a text message, updating him on my charge. Ten minutes later we were back inside.

Dogs often eat grass when they have an upset stomach and want to rid of what's bothering them. Elmo did not rid of anything, but back inside his stomach did gurgle a bit. I fell back to sleep eventually and so did he.

When we got up, I took him outside before fixing our respective breakfasts. He wolfed down his lamb stew first and then I sat down to my Sunday morning pancakes. He scratched at the door.

"Elmo, you were just out. We can go out again after I'm finished eating."

"Scratch scratch. Whimper."

I continued eating. Then I heard a sound. I won't describe the sound because it was gross. I went to the back door and confirmed my fear: Elmo had yakked up his breakfast (thankfully missing my shoes by inches).

I don't know what's up with him tonight but he's following me around every time I move. I'm glad I have him around today for company though. Geeze, I sound like a crazy old cat lady. All I have is one temporary dog!