Thursday was the last day of school here. We don’t live immediately adjacent to the high school, but we’re close enough to be considered good parking. It’s a pretty posh high school, filled with the kind of urban cool kids that only existed, for my rural high school *ahem* years ago, in movies.
The last day of school is loud. There’s screaming, and horn blowing, and tire squealing. Even kids who usually take either school or city buses find ways to drive, or coerce people into picking them up.
Silas spent a significant portion of Thursday as a nervous wreck. After about the fifth time he had a meltdown over a noise two blocks away, I resorted to desperate measures.
I put his collar on, grabbed his leash, put on my huge sun hat, and took him outside. Once he was outside, he was fine. A little edgy, like he always is out front, but calmer about the noises.
Then I had an idea. I sent Silas to find a stick, and we played a little stick tug. When our stick broke into too many pieces, we ran back inside for a tug toy. As I was playing with Silas, I realized that I looked like a crazy person. All those kids hanging out across the street could see me, in my goofy sun hat, dancing around on my porch and talking. What they probably couldn’t see, thanks to our hedges, was the dog.
I probably should have been embarrassed. Instead, I was too busy being thrilled that Silas was willing to play out front, with all that noise and chaos going on.