Woe is Roxy

Our next door neighbors, with the yucky chainlink fence and the plastic chicken-in-a-bucket, got a dog last year. Roxy is a small, spastic terrier, and she is not happy. Or that's what we think.

These neighbors bought the dog for a daughter that visits maybe one weekend a month. Apparently she has a dog "at her mom's house" so therefore she needed one at dad's house. I'm not sure the neighbors realize that dogs are pets, not pajamas.

Roxy is fixated on us. She sits in the window watching our house. She runs out into the yard when we walk out the door (luckily she has a dog door), springing up and down until we come to the chainlink fence and wriggle our fingers through and talk to her. After asking permission, we sometimes take her on walks, something she doesn't get often if ever, and she nearly strangles herself with excitement. When we take her home, she pulls back on the leash as soon as she realizes we're walking up her driveway. She doesn't want to go. It breaks my heart.

When the weather was better, we would bring Roxy over to our yard to "play" with Sammy. This means ol' Sam would stand in one place and wag her tail and bark, while Roxy ran maniacally around the yard, looping around and sometimes under Sammy. Good times.

Yesterday, Roxy stood by the back fence and barked for about an hour. It was a consistent kind of bark, at nothing and for no particular reason. I think she saw me come home and was telling me to come get her. She has done this several times before.

Maybe I'm projecting all of this, with my big gooey dog heart...but I don't think so. Ray agrees that if we're ever offered, Roxy can come live with us just like she wants.