If I hadn’t looked out the window at exactly that moment I would never have believed it.
I had just settled into my comfy window seat to watch the snow fall, waiting for my mug of coffee to cool when the garbage truck rolled up at the Smith’s across the street. There’s nothing special about two burly guys dumping more garbage into a truck, but there is something unbelievable about a husky that shows up to undo it.
The taller garbage man had just thrown in an old doghouse when Sheffy the husky arrived in a sprint right between them, stuck snout over front feet, latched onto his old doghouse and started pulling. So what’s a garbage man to do? They just stood there watching, their peals of laughter breaking through the snowy silence. Sheffy couldn’t get it out, so he jumped into the back of the truck and tried again. He latched his jaws upon a lower part of the lip of the doghouse door, lifted it up over the edge and onto the street with a thud! Sheffy then pulled with great noise of heavy poly going scratch-scratchover a thinly snowed street. He went rear first, tail bobbing with the effort, scratch-scratch over the corner of the driveway, then quietly jerk-jerk alongside, leaving a wide grassy track through the snow. He drug it past the corner of the garage, then lilting rightward all the way to the backyard gate where the action stopped for a moment. It was good he stopped off-center of the gate, because it let me see his next move. With a deft maneuver of his snout, Sheffy nosed open the chain link gate and began to pull his house inside. Oops, big snag. He was pulling it corner first and got it wedged diagonally. But we were already rooting for him, the garbage men with their laughter and clapping and me with my fist pumping shouts of “Go Sheffy, Go!”
For at least a minute Sheffy struggled, his tail bobbing in and out of sight, he in the backyard and his doghouse stuck crossways between the posts of the gate. I could almost hear him growling in the effort. Finally, all his struggling paid off. Sheffy jerked with a turn, his rear-end shifting leftward into view, which lined the doghouse up with that intractable opening. With more tugging he disappeared with it back where it came from.
As we all applauded, Sheffy returned to the open gate, tongue bouncing out long for air, victoriously looking our way, standing there as if best in show. We kept applauding until he returned to the backyard, pulling the gate nearly shut behind him.
I’m sure the Smiths had bought a new doghouse to replace his old one. But Sheffy had a plan and wasn’t about to let his humans or two men in jump suits spoil it. I finished my coffee with a chuckle and dragged my ass into the office and got to work.
Go, Sheffy! Reclaim, Reuse, Recycle.