We'll say goodbye to Duffy tomorrow. He was the perfect little dog...once he stopped running away at night. He was so good about the underground fence that for the last year he'd go outside on his own without even wearing the collar. But when we first got him, he'd see a rabbit in the dark and off he'd go, across the line and out into the dark. We'd chase him through the neighborhood with the help of all the neighbors, me in the car, Clayton on foot. And because he was black it sure made for some frantic scramblings through the neighbors' yards.
He loved to look out the window so we'd accomodate him by pulling the footstool over by the bay window in the kitchen, raising the blinds so he could see the world in our backyard. On this particular night we had snow falling and he was so excited we had to let him out on the back deck.
He loved to sit in that swing but we'd taken all the cushions off the chairs and piled them on the swing seat, so he looked at the pile and knew his short little legs would never make the leap. The three of us spent many an hour out on that deck. Whether it was on a Sunday morning reading the paper and drinking our coffee, or cool nights enjoying the stars. If Clayton sat in a chair, Duffy was right up there in his lap. Didn't seem to matter that the swing was big enough for two; he'd always pick his daddy's lap over mine. He was king of the castle and always picked the best seat on the couch. He loved to watch TV, particularly cartoons. And if a dog came on the screen he'd race from the couch to the TV, jumping up to bark at the dog. I don't know who said dogs aren't smart, but they surely weren't talking about our little Scottie.