The kids had a busy summer, which was good for them, and in its own way, good for me. But the two creatures that probably benefited most from it were the dogs.

I may or may not have projected some of the empty nest syndrome onto them, which, it turns out, they didn’t mind at all. In fact, for the first time since Steve died, I actually feel like the dogs and I have found a routine that is working for us.

From the time they came home as puppies, the dogs have always been crated when we weren’t home with them and at night. It seemed to be working well.

Of course, our COVID isolation had spoiled Duncan a little bit, but even when things sort of went back to normal, he never objected to being in the crate. The command “kennel” and the subsequent treats that they were given once they complied made that one of the few times I could count on them to be obedient. However, when we went on vacation, even short ones, for some reason, I let the dogs “off their leash” as well, and no longer restricted them to kennels.

Since we always stay at dog friendly places, and most of them were obviously well loved by their canine visitors, I didn’t worry about them messing things up just a little. A funny thing happened. The more I trusted them with their freedom, the more they relaxed into it, and after coming home from our spring weekend away, I realized that I missed having them following me around almost all the time.

The small sizes of the cottages we usually stayed at also prevented me from dragging in two large crates and setting them up in the bedroom, like we have at home. So, I started letting the dogs sleep outside of their crates.

I wasn’t about to let them sleep in bed with me, but they seemed perfectly content to park themselves at the side of the bed. This was only a problem when I forgot they were there in the middle of the night and stepped on them, but we gradually got used to the new arrangement and when we got home, I didn’t see a reason to stop doing it.

It was then that I noticed Duncan had a particular routine. No matter how late I was up, working or doing other chores, Dunc would wait for me to get into bed. He then came over and nosed through the covers until he found my hand.

I’d give him a few pets, tell him good night, he’d hang out a few seconds, and then he would let out a sigh and finally settle himself for the night. Since then, he tucks me in every night. I can’t explain how this has transformed the rest of our relationship, but it has.

I’ve been spending quite a bit of time trying to run drills with him this summer, especially in the water. Whereas before he would only sometimes listen to me, and I could never quite trust him to wander off, now, he waits for me if we were walking, always keeping me in sight.

Even when I know he’s getting tired, if I ask him for one more retrieve, he will comply. Not necessarily happily, but he will follow my instructions. I know we still have a long way to go, and I have a lot to learn before I get up to his speed, but I finally allow myself to think about getting to that point, rather than us just continuing to butt heads.

I’ve spent enough time around animals and dogs to know that they have their ways of communicating, but I always used to feel that Dunc didn’t think it was worth his time to communicate to me, or if he felt anything toward me, it was disdain.

Steve was his everything, so it didn’t bother me too much at the time. After Steve died, it became a real problem. I had worried that I might have to turn him over to someone who could handle him. Now, though, I finally feel comfortable calling him “my dog.”

Henson has always been more “my dog,” and I worried that he might be a little resentful if Dunc and I got closer; however, Duncan isn’t overly possessive, and they each seem to understand their role.

Henson’s favorite thing to do is perch himself right next to me while I’m working at my desk. The backyard is home to about 50 squirrels, an assortment of birds, and a family of deer. He has finally accepted that he doesn’t need to bark at them and is content to just sit next to me and scope things out.

I’m not sure if Steve would approve of me “babying” them, but I know we’re all happier and more in tune with each other than we’ve been in a long time.

Since I’m more confident in them trusting me, I’ve been spending a lot more time outside training with them as well, because I’m not as worried about them running away or disobeying me.

As a result, they’re more engaged and more exhausted on a regular basis. A tired working dog who has done his job is a good working dog.

It’s not how I saw our relationship developing, and I’m sure we have broken many dog rules along the way, but we’ve found what is working for us. When I hear Dunc’s contented sigh as he settles or Hens puts his chin on my shoulder while I’m working, I know we’re doing the right thing.

Hunting season is right around the corner, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m really looking forward to getting them out and doing the work we’ve been practicing for all summer.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing columnist who appears weekly in the Times News