"What's the matter, Dog?" I paused in my task of moving the side table next to the couch.
"Well, all these changes. You sure we have to go through with this?"
"Dog, it's Christmas! We do this every year. We have to move stuff around in order to make room for the tree and other decorations." I shook my head. Every year it was the same with him, concern that we moved furniture, that we changed his routine.
Dog shook his head, as well. "But you don't understand. I have a well-planned route I patrol to check this house out. I can do it with my eyes closed, because the furniture is where it always is, where it is supposed to be. Except now. And to compound the issue, all these decorations have new scents. I can't tell when I should be alerted to an issue with the house or not."
"You'll get used to it. It's only for a couple of weeks."
"Yeah, but you don't have to settle down the other dogs each day." Dog looked at me, rolling his eyes. "Every morning, they wake up, and get excited 'Hey hey hey! There's a new smell in that room! Let's go explore!' Only, of course, we can't explore, because you lock us up like criminals in the kitchen behind that gate."
"You've all survived in the past. I'm sure you will in the future. Now, if you let me finish, we can get to cigars on the deck sooner than later." With that, he sat on his back haunches, concerned but quiet.