My neighbors have this furry little white dog, Murdock. He woke me up tonight with his barking. It was this sad, whiny little bark. He was sitting right by his side-door, staring at the doggie-door in it, and barking. Then he's pause, whimper a little, the bark again, these three questioning barks. I watched him from my window for a bit, wondering what was wrong. He just sat there, in front of the door. Had it been locked for the evening? Was his dad not home? I went downstairs, checked in the driveway: the truck was in the driveway and the Christmas lights on, so he's home. Maybe just sleeping too deeply to hear poor little Murdock calling him. So I put a bathrobe on, and go outside (leaving my feet bare, which turned out to be a rather poor, cold, idea) to investigate. I come to the fence, Murdock doesn't move from his doorway vigil. I look closer, and there is a step in front of the door, which Murdock hasn't climbed. I know I've been told this is a very old dog - maybe the step is too much for him tonight. I talk to him as I come closer, and nuzzle his head. "Are you okay puppy? Do you want to go inside? Is your door locked?" I give the door a nudge, and it swings freely. "What if I just picked you up and put you through this door, would that make you feel better?" He feels so light and frail as I pick him up, push the door open, and set him down half-in and half-out. I give his rump an encouraging pat, and he shuffles in. I let the door close behind him, and pause, to see if he come out, or cries again. Neither happens, and my feet are growing cold, so I go back to my house. Look out the window once more - no dog, no noise. I think I did a good deed this evening for little Murdock. It's a cold night to be trapped outside your own home.