Crouched over the arm of the loveseat, head rested on his front paws, Seamus is the lookout for … no – sentry, of the Drinkwine household. His field of view of the street is the corner that leads to the park, school and general route of dog walkers. 
At times only his eyes move, but when he perks up – almost snapping to attention – without looking, I know someone new, or someone with several dogs, came into his view. If he lets out with a low growl, I know he’s watching to see if they’re going to mark his curb, tree or snow pile. If he barks …they did.
This is Seamus’ routine every morning, right after sharing bacon with his human whom he’s trained not to wait too long to fix it. It’s his way of weathering the confinement of down state living, waiting for spring.
I can read his mind when he finally settles down and takes his morning nap. He dreams of being at the cabin, running free, no leash, marking every tree, bush and anything else stationary, on the first run of the trip. It’s the King Seamus’ realm – and he’s back.
Soon … soon!
TD