Reading Material

Whenever Michael isn't snoozing, he is watching me.  It was a little unnerving at first, until I realized he is watching for signs that I might need him.  I wish I had more for him to do as he is a dog who is meant to serve.

As time has passed, I've also learned how to read Michael.  Sometimes he lies by the front door, sometimes he sits there looking out.  That's okay.  If he sits by the door looking back at me, that's the first sign he'd like to go out.  If I'm slow on the uptake, he'll go over to sit by the door to the deck, more in my line of sight, and look at me.  If he could, he'd say, "Ahem, lady, a little more attention, please."  Should I still dawdle, he'll come over to sit in front of me and start tapping his right foot.  He reminds me of my impatient father who would jangle the keys in his pocket while waiting for my mother to finish getting ready to go.  "Want to go walkies, Michael?"  The ears go up and he heads for the door, waiting for the leash to go on.  Because he has such limited freedom, Michael gets to choose where we go on our outings and has his choice of watering spots (he does the watering).  The only place I will not go anymore is out in the west field lest we run into the wasps again.  It's been a week and my arm is still red, hot, and swollen.

Michael is not a demonstrative dog, so I am thrilled when he gives my hand a tiny kiss, and take it as a sign of affection.  We've both learned that if he stands in front of me in a certain way, he'd appreciate a butt scrub.  He asks for so little, I'm happy to comply.  After he's had a snack from his bowl, he comes looking for dessert.  I keep tiny milk-bones in my pocket.  He is so darned smart.  He understands sign language.  I will hold up from one to three fingers and he knows that's how many treats he will get.  After receiving the designated amount, he turns and goes away without being told, "That's all."

I could do worse for reading material.

Stay safe.  Be well.