Wanderlust

My yard.

It’s where I spend my days. While you’re sitting at a desk, listening to the never-ending drone of corporate America, I am kicking back in the sun, tossing the Frisbee to myself or running around with a pink watering-can in my teeth.

Yes, a pink watering-can. Don’t judge.

Well, as you can imagine, I yearn for the world outside my gates. The neighbors, their sticky-fingered kids, the rabbits that streak across their yards…

So yesterday, I decided to go exploring. I fiddled with the latch until it swung open…and out I went. Wandering, observing, appreciating. Ok, running around like a chicken with my head cut off, but it was fun.

However, my humans failed to see my reasoning in this and they freaked out when they arrived home and found the gate swinging softly in the breeze. It may have had something to do with the fact that they couldn’t find me right away, but mostly I think they’re just kind of high strung.

As my dad started panicking and talking to neighbors, I moseyed up behind him, just to confirm there was nothing to worry about. I visited the other pups in the hood, peed on some trees, chased some bunnies and now I was back, ready to play with him.

You’d think I’d ditched him for a younger, richer master by the way was falling all over himself, yelling at me and hugging me at the same time. Sheesh. Can’t a boxer dog get a little wanderlust sometimes? Humans.