My family should know better than to dare me. But, it seems some things folks will never learn.
In truth, it wasn’t a dare they issued to me. No, they didn’t have the nerve to say it to my face.
I had to overhear it. Which, of course, is even worse!
A few weeks into their new, home-based lifestyle (STILL!!), I noticed they were no longer putting the gate across the bottom of the stairs.
I thought about it and decided that I had seen the upstairs before and there was no need to bestir myself to mount those steep, slippery steps again.
So, as far as I was concerned, gate or gate, it was business as usual.
But then one day I heard The Woman and The Elder Boy talking. About me! They were saying that they thought I couldn’t climb the stairs anymore.
They even went so far as to say they might stop using the gate forever since it appeared I no longer tried to join them upstairs.
I sat with this information for a while.
Could they really think so poorly of me? That I couldn’t mount the stairs if I wanted? That it wasn’t a CHOICE that I was making to stay on the first floor, but that I was compelled by INFIRMITY? It was as if they didn’t know me at all. Truly, the cruelest blow.
What could I do?
I showed them.
One day, when it was past time for me to take The Woman out for her afternoon walk, I climbed the stairs to look for her. She doesn’t do well if we wait too long to go. So, all in all, I was acting in her best interest.
She wasn’t in the room at the top of the stairs.
There was an interesting trashcan in the bathroom, but I restrained myself and kept going. Remember, I was on a mission of mercy. She needed to go on her walk.
Finally, finally, she appeared from her room.
I quickly led the way back downstairs.
They won’t underestimate me so quickly again.
For information about how the gate previously worked, or didn’t work, see The Grass is Always Greener on the Second Floor.