Dogs and the guest bedroom - an irresistible attraction

One thing I know about dogs is that they love the guest bedroom. In fact, love might be too weak a word; they are obsessed with it. That’s probably because they are never allowed in there.

What’s the big deal, they must think. It’s just a bed and a couple of dressers. The one time they tried to take a nap in the guest bedroom, the mistress of the house went into a tirade that sounded like a couple of macaws mating in a South American rainforest. They were called such ugly things as bad and scolded with the words “Shame on you.” It was just plain ugly.

The gossip amongst the dogs at the dog park is that even a small outline on the bed is enough of a giveaway to leave them out of the family Christmas card. It’s funny because although the guy of the house doesn’t want them in there either, he simply tells them to leave, without all the drama. It’s because he is Alpha; he’s the pack leader.

I observed this recently when I spent time with my two granddogs, a Golden Retriever the size of the state of Ohio and a Black Lab that looks like another building made out of bricks. As soon as they saw me pull into the driveway, they knew by the luggage I was headed for the guest bedroom.

Between their sobbing and throwing themselves on the ground, I made a break for it and got to the back porch. Follow us, they panted as we went up to the second floor. They kept looking back over their shoulders to make sure I knew the location of the guest bedroom.

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They knew the mistress of the house would not object to them coming in while she was chatting.

They knew the game, pretended to be sniffing all around, you know what adults expect dogs to do, the simple things that they think make up their day. But this is all part of the act. The real master plan for the guest room will come later when everyone is asleep. The day will be filled with excitement and lots of baby talk from the guest, whom they love because she doesn’t know about not feeding them from the table.

And so it was that I found myself on the first morning of sleeping in the guest bedroom drawn up in a fetal position and occupying one square inch of the bed. The rest was taken up by gigantic dog bodies.

I’d heard some rattling around during the night, but then there would be a pause. Dogs know how to pose silently in their tracks like the best Special Ops people in the world. It is instinctively bred in them. They can wait outside a door all night; they have to just to pick the right time to tiptoe inside. Hold it, hold it, I don’t think she is asleep yet.

As soon as I was assured everything was OK, the tiptoeing would start again. Now we can make our move; you go right , I’ll go left and then we leap up and hold it again.

This went on for a few days. Every morning they would act as if nothing had happened. They knew I would keep my mouth shut. Sure, they made their escape out of the guest bedroom before the others were awake. And yet somehow their secret was safe with me.

When I left, they stood in the driveway, happy in the knowledge that what happens in the guest room stays in the guest bedroom as far as the dog world is concerned. And so it goes.