Miles was calm when we returned to the house. It was 6:30 on Sunday morning, so I went back to bed. About fifteen minutes later, Miles was running through the house. He scampered through each room, up and down the hallway, and all around. Of course, I got up to check on him, but nothing was amiss. He didn’t whimper, there was no thunder, and no one was knocking on the door. I returned to bed for about an hour.
When I got out of bed to start the day, Miles didn’t greet me like he usually does. I knew something was amiss now. When I reached the living room, I could smell something amiss, then I saw the mess. Luckily, the mess was not big and it was easy to clean up. A quick cleaning and the rug was like new. But, Miles felt terrible. He had a guilty look on his face and he clearly felt bad for his unusual behavior.
My husband, Bob, and I spent several minutes reassuring Miles that he was a good boy. We knew he did not need punishment because he had never done this before. He was punishing himself enough. He needed empathy from us. We were happy to offer it. His demeanor returned to normal later in the day, and all was well.
But, today, I did not assume Miles was fine. After all, he still had not handled his morning business. Bob took Miles out for a walk in a different area, which is part of their morning routine, and business was handled. When I left for work, the rug was fine. Oh, Miles and Bob were fine too.