The Hideout

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I searched for my terrier Tuck this morning, but didn’t see him anywhere.

I had put him out in the backyard for a few minutes, before leaving for work.

Because my yard is small and fenced, I was initially more puzzled than concerned.

The last time I’d looked out the kitchen window, ‘King Tuck’ was sitting up on his favorite throne smiling.

Yet he’s one smart little fellow, who’s never a happy camper when I need to leave the house.

And he can always sense when it’s time.

Tuck’s got the perfect body clock.

Anyway, I looked under the trees, the shrubs, and the tomatoes in the vegetable patch.

And I looked behind the couch, under the bed, and in the basement in case he’d snuck back inside to one of his typical hiding spots.

But there was no Tuck to be found.

I was starting to get worried.

Returning to the yard, I sensed some movement over by the garage underneath a patch of thick ferns.

Next I saw what looked like a little head with thick, dirty blonde hair.

I walked over and lifted a canopy of green fronds.

And there was Tuck, shaking away in a deep hole he’d dug as today’s hideout.

When he spotted me, Tuck started to dig even deeper with his paws.

“Hey, Tuck. Looks like you’re digging a hole all the way down to China,” I told him. “I’ve got to go earn some kibble and you’ve got a job to do, too, buddy.”

Shaking mud off those paws as I grabbed him, I then placed Tuck in his cozy crate with a crunchy treat.

Next I turned on my guy’s favorite classical music station for his listening pleasure.

As I backed out of the garage, I listened to Tuck’s daily wailing serenade for 60 seconds.

But as usual, that serenade turned to a snore by the time I hit the street.

I’m sure Tuck’s dreaming up new hideouts for the rest of the week.

Yup, that’s my terrier.

What a little actor.