The Sock Hop

 

We had a sock hop at my house last night.  “We” is probably not the correct word, because I was not invited to the event.  The dogs had a sock hop, or a canine version of a sock hop. Scout, Sophie and Carli were the participants, and I’m pretty sure the whole thing was Carli’s idea and that she furnished the socks.  I woke up in the night a couple of times and heard the rustling of the plastic bag as Carli was stealing the socks.  The second time, I’m pretty sure, was when she took the whole bag.  I didn’t get up then, but when I finally did, socks were strewn from one end of the bedroom to the other end of the living room, with a shredded bag in the middle of the floor. 

The socks came from a bag I had filled with odd socks, socks with holes in them and stretched out socks that crawl down into the toes of my shoes when I wear them.  I had left them on the chest at the foot of my bed.  Ordinarily the bag would have been covered with other clothing I had thrown there but I had straightened up before I went to bed last night and the bag was there, a temptation that could not be resisted.  Plastic bags, bubble wrap and plastic bottles are also irresistible to my merry band of collies.  Sophie is also a connoisseur of cardboard boxes and sticks.  The only reason I don’t have large sticks in my house is that she hasn’t figured out how to fit them through the dog door.

Finding articles of clothing strewn around the house, the yard and the yard next door is not unusual.  The dogs’ fascination with clothing is a sure incentive to keep my clothes picked up and out of reach.  Out of reach covers very little territory, since all three dogs are almost as tall as I am when they stand on their hind paws.  And drawers must be tightly shut to keep collie noses out. My neighbor next door brought one of my shirts home last week and asked if I had missed it.  I hadn’t.  This morning, I found one of her shirts just outside the front yard.  She is the owner of one of Carli’s puppies and I suspect he has inherited more than just his coloring from his mom.

A couple of years ago, I put in a new storm door with a dog door built in.  My friends raised their eyebrows when I announced my intention.  “There is no telling what will come  in that door,” they warned.  Nothing has come in that I’m aware of, but a lot of things have gone out, thanks to the dogs.  Carli is especially prone to stealing shoes and clothes and taking them out into the yard, or further.  You do not dare leave a shoe of any kind where she can reach it.  She doesn’t tear them up; she just takes them outside and loses them.  I had a crate filled with dog toys in the living room.  The crate has been totally empty for several weeks now – all toys have been scattered all over the farm.  As I write this, there is one lone pull toy on the rug, and it does not even belong to my dogs.  It belongs to Ghost, who lives next door.  Mr. Squirrel, Mr. Horse, Mr. Giraffe, various squeaky toys, at least two kongs, and assorted old shoes have disappeared.  They would just as soon have socks and bottles and boxes anyway!

It's too hot to play outside much these days.  The dogs spend most of the daylight hours in the house asleep.  Scout has claimed one of the air conditioner vents as his very own and I finally had to move the side table that sits by it over.  His other favorite activity right now is playing beauty shop with my young cousins. 

They like to brush him and he is ecstatic to be brushed.  Natalie tells him to sit and he sits.  Eventually, he is so happy that he collapses on his side so she can reach him better.  When she stops, he reaches a paw up to pat her on the arm.  The other dogs crowd around Natalie's sister Olivia for their turn.  It's a dog's best life, here on the farm!