Most days, I spend a fair bit of time in the small third bedroom. It no longer has a bed in it, just some bookcases, a big desk with my PC on it, and the second hand office chair I have enjoyed sitting in for some years now. The room is always referred to as ‘The Office’.
Ollie likes to be within reach of me at all times, so when I go and sit down in the office, he follows me and lies down on the carpet twelve inches from my chair. Once he realises I am going to be in there for some time, he generally goes to sleep, snoring noisly next to me as I type.
It didn’t take my dog very long to start to identify what he obviously thinks of as ‘signals’.
Me: Moves chair back to reach something behind me.
Ollie: Stands up immediately, no longer asleep. Are we going out now?
Me: Opens a drawer in the desk to find a pen, charging cable, or notebook.
Ollie: Stands up, tail wagging. We must be going out now!
Me: Closes drawer, slides chair back in and resumes typing.
Ollie: Slumps back down. False alarm, we’re not going out yet. Immediately asleep again.
Me: Decide to have another coffee. Stand up and head for the kitchen.
Ollie: Jumps up and follows. He’s heading for the back door, must be time to go out.
Me: Gets a cup and switches on kettle.
Ollie: Slumps down in the kitchen doorway. Looks like we are not going out after all.
Me: Decide to start on the draft for tomorrow’s serial episode.
Ollie: Enough is enough! He’s getting my chin on his leg!
Me: “Come on then, let’s take you out”.