As Fox was lamenting the use of her pot plants as preferred burial grounds, Jet upgraded his latest bone to “Most Beloved Thing”.
After his late walk the other night, Jet removed the lamb soup bone from the potted plant he'd buried earlier and settled down on his astro-turf loo to eat the soft, dirty meat from it. It must have been during this time that he fell head over heels for this thing, because after he’d taken the easy meat from it, he decided to hide the bone inside his kennel.
From my vantage point, inside on the couch – he was not impressed with me being on the deck with him and his bone, so I was watching him through the glass sliding doors – I could see him pawing and scratching at the blanketed layers inside his kennel. I assume he as trying to bury the bone in the folds of the fabric - away from other predators and close enough for him to keep an eye on. After a while he hopped out of the kennel and stood outside, surveying his handywork. His efforts seem to have failed to meet his own exacting “hiding” standards, and he appeared to be having a "bit of a think". He turned and looked at me through the sliding glass door, then returned his attention to the kennel doorway, the blankets, the bone, and had more thinks.
What he thought while standing there thinking: I do not know; but he then must've hit on a plan because he began to tug at the blankets inside the kennel. He tug, tug, tugged them, inching them out the kennel doorway. While a human might manage to pull those flattened duvet and IKEA blankets through the kennel doorway, this dog only did half as well and so that’s where he left his bedding after 10 minutes of tenacious tugging – half way in, and half way outside, his kennel.
He then climbed over the spewed bedding and back inside the kennel. I dared not go and see what he was up to in there, in case it was “private stuff”. But it was getting late, the night was rather cold and so I decided to go out and let him know it was time to come inside to a warm bed for the night. But he didn’t want a bar of it. He wouldn’t budge from his redecorated kennel.
I lifted the hinged roof of the kennel thinking he would budge but I was wrong. I reached inside to pat him and tell him again it was bedtime and to come inside and he nipped at me. Having a “Most Beloved Thing” will do that to a dog. He had become this wild, protective, golum-esque creature with a growl and another sanp for me when I tried a second time. “Fine!” I said, “Sleep out here in the cold. See if I care!” I couldn’t leave him with his bedding in such disarray though, so I muscled him out of his kennel, refolding and remaking his bed. He jumped right back inside the kennel the minute I had finished and I left him to it, locking the sliding door behind me.
As I was lying in my own bed, thinking he was a crazy dog for wanting to sleep outside on a cold almost Winter’s night when there was a perfectly warm human willing to share her bed with him, I heard clunking noises from downstairs. Clunking like something being dropped on the wooden deck. I thought Jet must’ve decided he’d had enough of the dark and the cold and maybe he had changed his mind and wanted to come inside. I went downstairs and pulled back the sliding door to a suddenly stock still, “I’m not doing anything over here by the sand pit!” Jet. He looked at me out the corner of his eye (as only dogs who are up to sneaky things can) before trotting back and disappearing into his kennel, completely ignoring me. Obviously, it was none of my business and I was just a nosey neighbour to him.
I left him again, outside, in the cold in his kennel on the deck. Good riddance. Prefer your bed to mine? See if I care!
The next morning revealed Jet had been busy overnight. He had, again, attempted to pull his bedding from the kennel – it was half in and half outside – this time the half that was outside was soaking wet from the early morning rain, and he was curled up tightly inside the kennel on what was left of the dry bedding. It occurred to me, seeing again what he had tried to do, was block the entrance to stop me (or anyone else) from getting into the kennel, and protecting his “Most Beloved Thing”.
He was much more relaxed the next morning, bounding from the kennel still half asleep but mad keen on a morning walk. I figured the bone was buried deep in the sandpit which was now sporting an extremely flattened surface - Jet must've worked well into the night covering his burying tracks. His "Most Beloved Thing" hasn't resurfaced yet though I have no doubt Jet hasn't forgotten about it. He has the deck to himself all day today and I'm sure he's having a great old crazy time with that bone.