Carroll and I bought our little house in the Summer of 1988 (I think) and we literally moved in thru the back door as the previous owners were taking their stuff out the front. We bought the place because it had a fenced in yard and we were then the humans owned by an Irish Setter named Maggie who needed room to roam and, well, poop.
So we basically bought the house for Maggie.
The back yard has two towering oak trees and over the years they have been home to generation after generation of squirrels and birds, all of which have provided interest and (occasionally) game for the subsequent dogs: Maggie was joined by Winnie and was replaced by Lucy and Winnie was replaced by BoyDog. They are visited occasionally by the GrandDog, Ruca, whose human is our son Jason. When he visits, so does Ruca.
When Ruca visits, Lucy, the senior dog, grumps and usually heads down the wooden hill to lie by the front door and let us know she disapproves. BoyDog, whose life revolves around being rubbed, and who is almost a twin to Ruca although much older, valiantly defends the food and water bowls from her and dives into whoever's lap is available; Ruca usually follows the same trajectory.
It can get uncomfortable.
When the three of them go out into the yard, depending on which dog Ruca is closest to, she will either squat or raise her leg to pee. We think that she's trying to impress her relatives.
All of the dogs who have lived here have, at one time or another, "seen the elephant" and engaged in the combat that only squirrels and birds and dogs really understand. A couple years ago, a tribe of chipmunks moved into my gas grill and I haven't had the heart to dispossess them. They will run from their home across the patio into the yard and Lucy will just lay there watching; BoyDog, I think, has never noticed them, although he often sniffs vigorously around the site of the old Ducane.
Today, as I let Lucy back into the house after her early morning out, I noticed about a half-dozen squirrels in the yard, busying their furry selves with their Fall occupation of burying nuts.
Lucy just lay in front of the door, watching along with me. She never chuffed, never barked, just watched. Her ears were up and her head followed their movement so I knew she had something going on in that doggie brain of hers.
I offered her a small chunk of cheese and she gave up the squirrels.
To sleep, all of us. I'll have my cheese later.