Last night, Zorro got lost in the bathroom.
Now, my bathroom is pretty big, but he’s gone in there several times a day for water, every day for two years now, so he should know his way around.
Last night, however, something changed. He went in for water, and didn’t come out. We heard a scratching at the door, and I thought he was scratching at the bedroom door, signalling a need to visit the back yard. But Fuzzy said the sound wasn’t coming from the right place. He got out of bed, walked into the bathroom and called, “Zorro…” and waited.
My poor old Zorro dog had been scratching at the inside of the partly opened bathroom door, apparently having walked behind it, instead of through it, on his attempt to come back to bed.
We hugged him and told him we still loved him, even if he’s getting old and rangey.
He just sighed and went to sleep.