stair wars

I was going to write a post tonight, a post about Millie I think, I hadn't quite decided. Then suddenly the night ran away with me, and I couldn't decide whether it would be better to get an early(ish) night, or write a post. I find myself typing, so I guess the urge to write won out.

At the moment, we are facing a new episode in the trials of dog ownership. Millie isn't allowed upstairs. Which means that her favourite place in the house is upstairs. Hilariously she hasn't grasped the idea that even if we can't see her, we can hear her, resulting in her walking, just a few steps behind me every time I attempt to ascend. Life is like one long game of statues, or a much less creepy version of those angels from Dr Who. I stop on a step and she stops behind me, I turn round and she stares me out, I take a step towards her and she suddenly understands that I have spotted her and dashes back towards the kitchen, skidding along the hallway (occasionally redirecting into the lounge if she is feeling particularly cheeky).

The minute we are out of sight though, she decides the coast is clear, and her footsteps (pawsteps?) clatter back towards the stairs, and she bounds up them. She becomes increasingly perturbed when we shout at her to stop from some unseen room, clearly perplexed as to how we can possibly know. She takes a few cursory steps in retreat, and waits a moment, before resuming her mission to discover the great unexplored upstairs.

She also hasn't gathered that if we have gone upstairs before her, we will still be up there. So when I have finally given up with the shouting and the chasing, and wait for her to come to me, she jumps out of her skin as she skips into the forbidden territory assuming herself unobserved, only to find me staring. Sometimes she goes at that point and sits patiently on the threshold of the kitchen door, one paw insolently poking into the hallway, a small defiance to prove she has not quite relented entirely.

Tonight, as I pottered about, having given up trying to send her on her way back to the kitchen, she settled down on the carpet by the bed. She looked so restful, and so content, that I decided to let her be, just for a little while. It was far more peaceful than beginning another round of chase, and after all, what harm would it do. I figured I could write my blog, she could doze at my side, and then I could take her back downstairs. I decided to take the picture above, and as the shutter clicked, she opened her eyes. She smiled, I swear I can see a smile...

...a smile that tells me she knows what is upstairs, and she likes it. A smile that says she has been victorious. A smile that says she knew we wouldn't be able to resist indefinitely. A smile that says we may have won the battles, but she has already won the war.