Food Escort

Dante has always had this thing about the basement. He’s never had any sort of negative or frightening experience in the basement, but for whatever reason, he’s not too fond of it.

Dante has never shown an inclination to go down wandering in the basement on his own. He’ll reluctantly trundle downstairs if coaxed and cajoled enough, but he makes a point of not sticking around there for too long.

Dante’s raw food is stored down in the basement in a large chest freezer, with portions incrementally thawed out in a small bar fridge, also situated down in the basement. It’s been the same arrangement/system for both the previous house and the current house.

The only time Dante gets really excited about the basement is when he hears his food bowl thunking down on the counter and me subsequently lumbering down the basement stairs to retrieve his food. He stands at the top of the basement stairs, quivering all over in anticipation of being fed and belting out a caterwauling rendition that would put even Pixie to shame. When I reach the top of the stairs balancing food containers on both hands, I’m nearly always mugged for the food before it even reaches his bowl.

A few weeks ago, I set out Dante’s food bowl on the counter and prepared to head down the basement. Right on cue, Dante trailed me to the top of the basement stairs, then planted himself there getting increasingly vocal about having food NOW while I made my way down the stairs.

On the way to the freezer, I passed by the Dryer with a full load of dried and tumbled clothes staring back at me through the glass opening. It then occurred to me that I had two full loads of laundry waiting to be shoved into the Washer upstairs, and I really needed to stop procrastinating clearing out and folding the previous load from the Dryer.

So, I thought I’d make a little “detour” and unloaded the Dryer instead. Once the laundry basket was full and placed at the bottom of the stairs to the second floor, I would have no excuse for putting off tending to it. Once I was done with that I would come back down again for Dante’s food and get on with feeding him before he makes a dramatic theatrical show of croaking from starvation.

When I (unexpectedly, in Dante’s eyes) emerged from the basement with not food, but a heavy laundry basket in my hands, the expression on Dante’s face was akin to a little child who had been told that his goldfish had died. He was confused. I thought I could even detect a slight hint of panic in his bewildered gaze: “Mum?! Where’s ... the food?!?!?!” The poor thing ... I didn’t know whether to feel bad for him or chuckle out loud.

I placed the laundry basket at the foot of the stairs as planned. Then I reassured Dante that I was going back down to get his food, and that he hasn’t missed a meal on my watch yet!

This time though, Dante gingerly padded down the stairs behind me. Oh dear, I thought to myself, the dog doesn’t trust that I’m not going to come up with another laundry basket instead of food again!

He located the freezer and fridge, and immediately bounded towards it, alternating his gaze between the freezer/fridge and myself, as if trying to make it clear what I was supposed to be doing this time. I opened the fridge door and started reaching in for his food. Dante stood to one side, and from the corner of my eye, I caught him directing shifty, nervous glances all around himself towards the rest of the darkened basement.

When I finally had the food in my hands, Dante stuck to my side, and escorted me (and his food) all the way up the stairs until we reached the kitchen counter and I started shovelling food into his bowl.

Yep, he made his point.

Since then, Dante has been accompanying on my trips down to the basement when it comes to his meal times. He seems to have somehow gotten into his head that Mum can’t be trusted with the food now so he’ll have to act as an escort (for the food of course, not for Mum!) to make sure that the food makes it safely from the basement and into his bowl!

What I find funny is that it’s still evident that Dante does NOT like being down in the basement at all if he can avoid it. He’ll come downstairs with me, potter around in a fidgety “Hurry up Mum hurry up hurry up hurry up ...” until I have the food in my hands, and then try to nudge me up the stairs as fast as possible so he can get out of the basement. Sometimes he’ll zip up ahead of me, but he makes sure to peer back at me a few times just to confirm that I am indeed coming up with the food tout suite.

Now I no longer have to worry about being mugged when I reached the top of the basement stairs, but I’ve narrowly escaped being trampled and sent tumbling down the stairs by 90lb Doberman over-eager to high-tail it out of the basement! I wonder how much longer Dante plans to continue in his new Food Escort role before he “trusts” me again ... !