A Dog in Human Quarantine, Days 8-31.

Or whatever day it is.

Scout, our 11-year-old chocolate Lab, usually has the house to herself -- to lay on the various couches, to roam the yard, to somehow find food in the house.

This is an actual text from my wife from December: "Just got home. Apparently the dog ate between six and 15 granola bars."

But now we are all home together. Five humans and Scout.

All day, every day.

By Day 8, Scout has had enough. Normally, by 6:30 a.m., she is sitting outside our bedroom, breathing heavily to get our attention. On Sunday, when we come out at 9 in the morning, she pretends to be sleeping. It's obvious she's faking it in order to avoid us.

Day 12, 12:26 p.m.: Scout demands to go out for the 33rd time today, mostly so she can lay in the yard. By herself. She normally uses our doggie door. But when we're home, she can't be bothered with that. She repeatedly makes someone get up to let her out through the sliding glass door.

Since I'm working from home, I am seriously considering creating a pulley system that would allow me to open the door from my office chair at my desk in my office.

When I say "office chair at my desk in my office," I actually mean "kitchen table chair at the kitchen table in that little eating area next to our kitchen."

Day 12, 12:27 p.m.: Kids eating lunch in my office. On my desk. Scout staring at me from behind sliding glass door. She wants to be let in again.

Day 19: Emma, 13, has spent the entire day trying to teach our dog, who is old, tricks, which are new. Scout, in dog years, is the equivalent of an 82-year-old woman. And now, in what should be her twilight years, just to get extra treats, Scout has acquiesced to sitting still with a Milk Bone balanced on her nose. Also -- and no one in my family even mentions this -- Scout is wearing Emma's bikini.

Day 30 (evening): Scout -- maybe it's stress, maybe we have moles - -has started digging in the backyard. Then, covered in mud, she stares at us until we open the sliding glass door.

Emma, still in teaching mode, immediately reprimands our pet's unacceptable behavior by wrapping her in a beach towel and carrying her to a warm, pre-drawn bath. Also -- and I'm not sure if this is something Emma read in some dog training magazine -- she smears peanut butter over the shower tiles. This is designed to keep Scout focused as she licks Jif while contemplating her behavior during her warm handbath punishment.

Day 31 (9:41 a.m.): Scout goes outside.

Day 31 (9:43 a.m.): After apparently digging for two minutes, Scout stares through the sliding glass door, covered in mud. Waiting for her next punishment.