Oh, did I have my humans in a tizzy the night before last?
They were ready to call it quits for the night, and I wasn’t quite ready. The lights were out, the three of us were on the king-sized bed, and I started trying to get comfortable by moving my blanket around a bit. They found this annoying after a few minutes, and you know what that means:
Game on!
I was wide awake and quite amused by their reaction, so I just kept digging, digging, digging at the bedspread.
At first they got mad, and when I kept doing it no matter what they did, they became worried. I can hear every word they say, and they don’t think I understand them, so I have the advantage in this game.
“Maybe he swallowed that plastic bag he chewed?”
“Do you think we should find a vet?”
“I’m really worried now.”
“Hey, little buddy (referring to me, of course)… do you feel alright?”
“Do you think he’s anxious?”
“What in the world does he have to be anxious about?”
One picked me up and held me in her arms, sitting in a nearby chair, scratching my chest until I wriggled away.
I began to fart — another new game — and had them convinced something dire was about to occur.
The other human thought I should go outside, which is precisely what I wanted to do in the first place. Play some more, please.
When we returned, I played the digging game again until I finally got tired.
In the meantime, one human was conducting a Google search about Doodles and digging, and that didn’t help.
I decided it was night-night time, so I called the game over. But not without a few phantom digging motions with my legs sprawled out on my side to tease them.
The one human in my family who spends the most time at the computer posted a query in a Doodle Lovers Facebook forum and had about 40 responses so far. The consensus is this is a trait of my breed. We like to dig our bedcovers.
By the way, speaking of my breed, a few of you sharp-eyed readers have noticed I occasionally use big words in this column. For example, ‘viscosity’ was used when making fun of my humans for scrutinizing my poop (only I used the word ‘excrement’ in that post). Or ‘pulchritude’ was a word I used to describe some of the friendly people who like me around here.
When one of my readers pointed out that I had an extensive vocabulary for such a young pup, I answered: It’s the damned Poodle in me.
He once was an editor at the New York Times, the ‘Poodle’ of the newspaper industry.
J. Dudley Gilbert, Golden Doodle, F1B, born July 26, 2023
P.S. I love hearing from other dogs, cats, and humans.
Okoboji
By the way, my humans are throwing a big party for people who like to write. It’s called the Okoboji Writers’ and Songwriters’ Retreat. Check it out.
I had it all pictured in my mind and glad he finally settled for the night so you could get some sleep. And I love hearing about life from Dudley's point of view. Glad he keeps you on your toes.
Hi there, J-Dud. I'm another human, just to clarify. And I'm beyond my own dog days, I'm pretty sure. At any rate, this was a particularly fun column. My favorite part was, in the exchange between your two humans, when one says of you, "Do you think he's anxious?" And the other replies, "What in the world does he have to be anxious about?" It's fun for many of us guessing which of your humans said what there. I think there are going to be many more good columns for you, as your humans continue to wise-up about their dog's true life!