The patio at work has been open for a week. 7 days. It has provided innumerable moments and stories. But the only one that has made me want to write is the story of Watson.
Watson came in with his owner tonight, a friend had gotten there first and secured a place on the patio. Watson and his lady were running behind. To my confusion, the friend did not mention there would be a dog joining them. We are the patio and dogs are allowed but they can't enter through the regular ways. They must go around and knock on a door that is an emergency exit only.
The knocks. Loud and insistent. They confused me at first. I doubted that someone was actually trying to use that door. I assumed it was an angry neighbor or some such thing. I did not expect Watson and his lady to be the source of the insistent and impatient knocking.
I opened the door, immediately felt silly for wondering, and escorted them to their friend's gotten table. Watson was not eager or bored, he seemed content to follow his lady's lead and that was that. I didn't know much of Watson at this point and what I knew was but a veil.
Watson's lady and her friend spent nearly 3 hours at their table. It was not a bother to me, I checked in occasionally, they had drinks and an appetizer and then later each ordered a meal. On a beautiful night with the patio in full swing, I didn't give Watson or his ladies much thought as they seemed content.
Then like a lightning bolt, there was a tap on my arm as I finished another table's order. It was Watson's lady's friend.
"Please don't go out of your way, but my friend's dog, Watson, has wandered off, so if you could, keep an eye out. And let us know."
The patio is completely enclosed. There isn't a hole big enough for Watson to escape.
But in the middle of 12 tables and pure chaos, my mind now only has one goal, find Watson.
To my relief, Watson was not far. He had his leash still attached to his collar but he made it at least 12-15 feet away. I'm sure gobbling up dropped fries and snacks along the way. Several tables further north, he had found a comfortable perch, curled up on some random person's purse and snoozing away.
So comfortable he was not easily removed to his lady's table again. The folks at the table he found refuge in didn't know he was there. Were annoyed at first, but their annoyance from a random interruption faded fast when they discovered the sleeping contented pup.
Watson returned to his lady's table and sat diligently at her feet for the rest of their conversation. But he didn't look as content or as happy as he had snoozing on that stranger's purse. Watson had tasted adventure, and he liked the taste. He felt the surge of being off-leash. And he had learned its value.
I want to be wise like Watson and take the adventures that may come. Thank you, Watson.
