How My Dog Feels About the Quarantine

Please, please, please let me in!

We have a college across the street from our house. A big, sprawling area with paths, buildings, and, best of all, a large grassy area where my dog loves to run and catch a tennis ball.

Up until a few weeks ago, that’s what we did almost every day.

And then they CLOSED. THE. SCHOOL.

There is netting across the open spaces in the fence. I could easily rip it and sneak in. And probably avoid the campus police who are patrolling the area. I’m not sure what they would do to me. If anything. But I don’t want to take the chance.

Now my dog, on the other hand, really doesn’t care about the repercussions. She stares through the fence, tail swinging like a metronome, and I know this is what she is thinking.

Please, please, please, let’s go inside. There is no one in there. Not even a squirrel. You can throw my ball for me and I’ll chase it and bring it back. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just run and run and run with it. Why can’t we go inside?

I keep hearing this word “Quarantine” but it doesn’t mean anything new to me. I’m always stuck in the house unless we’re out here in the fresh air.

And that grass is so inviting.

You know, you can even crawl through that space over there. You’re skinny enough to fit.

And then I can run and run and get rid of this energy. Because you know if I don’t, tonight I’ll just have to chew up your socks and those tiny pieces of clothing I hear you refer to as G-strings. You never put all the clean laundry away.

I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. How come you don’t fold and put the clothes away? It’s not as if you don’t have the time.

I hear you mumbling about the pile every time you walk past it. But, hey, thanks for leaving them out. Your lacy purple ones are my favorite.

I also hear you talking about cleaning the kitchen floor and the stove and the carpets. I don’t get you at all.

When I say I have to poop, I poop. When I have to pee, I pee. There’s no putting it off until tomorrow.

And one more thing.

I weigh almost as much as you. So, I’m going to give a big yank and pull you through this hole in the fence. Because I know you want to go in there as much as I do.

It takes all my strength to move her away from the fence.

“It’s OK,” I say. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

She yips happily. I guess I’ll have to keep my promise. Or at least fold and put away our clean clothes.