In Training

Just as I often wonder who's in charge here, now I'm wondering who is training whom.  Michael is so bright.  He learned my haphazard schedule in no time, and now he's teaching me.  He is such a quiet dog, I have to pay attention to his signals.  He never demands, but he does give persistent clues.  Should his bowl get empty, he moves it about on the floor for me to hear.  "Hey, lady, how about some service here."  I'm lucky in that Michael is a late sleeper, giving me time to fool around on the computer (I call it taking care of business), but when I dress and go out to the living room, he's ready to go outside.  The only way I know this is because he goes to sit by the front door.  If I should ignore him, he moves over to the other door, more in line with my vision.  "Hey, lady, pay attention!"  Using this technique, he now has me going out at least three times a day and we're logging over a mile altogether.  Whenever we go outside and he's not on the leash, if he's not gone down the hill, as soon as we get back in the house he gets a treat and a lot of "Good boy" praise.  That's all well and fine, but Michael has been training me to also give him a brisk butt scrub as soon as I sit down.  The outing isn't complete for him without that.  Okay, I'm learning.  Bess Anne and I had shared a meal (small bits for her), but I had intended not to do that with Michael.  Yeah, well.  I found out last night that he likes roasted Brussels sprouts as much as I.

Michael has kept his sense of humor well hidden, but bits and pieces are starting to creep out.  He really seems to enjoy beating me (every time) in our race back to the house.  I'm getting my reward in tail wags, which he hadn't done before.  The other day he even ran around in the house, not enough to play Catch Me, but it was the first spontaneous play he'd done here.  I'm getting hand licks now when he's happy.  That makes me happy, too.