He Likes Me

I feel like gushing like Sally Field when she accepted her Oscar in 1985 for Places In The Heart.

Michael is not a demonstrative dog.  I don't know how much of that is training and how much is his personality.  It could be the loss he suffered when Susie died and/or his confusion at landing here.  Lately I've been over the moon when he gives me the slightest kissy on my hand while I pet him.  I am thrilled when he wags his tail just a little bit now.  He has barely lifted his head if I left the house without him, but recently he's been following me from room to room.  I think he likes me!

Michael has worked hard to train me.  He knows I keep a pocketful of tiny milk bones and that he will get three when we come in from our walks.  Those are the appetizer.  He then will go for a snack from his bowl, and come back for dessert, two more treats.  Believe me, he can count.  He knows when I flash the "no more" sign and decides where he's going to lie down for a nap.

Missy also has me trained.  From the time she first appeared in the barn I've put down her food and have given her strokes on her back.  Now that she's dining on the deck, she shows me exactly where to put her kibble, but will not begin to eat until she gets as many pets as she wishes, then dives in.  I am dismissed.

Ralph is sitting on my lap right now.  He reached over from the bed to pat my shoulder, his signal that "It's time."  I swivel my chair around and he climbs on board.  It makes for awkward typing, but what am I to do?

Michael likes to sleep in of a morning.  At least my writing doesn't disturb him.  I think he likes that.

Stay well.  Be safe.