My Dog

A fun thing about my dog is that you can totally see what's going on in his head. He doesn't point and he's not one of those dogs, like a Jack Russel, that have a different bark for every occasion to help get his point across.  But you look at him and it's so obvious what he's thinking.

The other day I let him out to do his business and he walked down the walkway.  Another dog was barking a few houses down.  My boy stood at the end of the walk and looked to the other house with the barking dog.  I could see what was going through his mind, something like "I like to bark too.  I should go and see you and we can bark together."  He looked around, like he knew he was trying to be sneaky.  He started to sidle, insofar as a dog can, off of the walk, an inch at a time.  Then I could tell he was thinking, "I'm not supposed to do this, but maybe I can get away with it."  But then he had misgivings, like "Maybe I'm not supposed to" and he looked back to the house and saw me at the door.  I gave him the scowl and told him, "Don't do it."  He snorted and came into the house.

I watch him try to casually insinuate himself between guests and food.  I watch as he looks around to see if anyone's looking when one of the especially fluffy, and to his palate tasty, baby toys are left on the floor.

Maybe I've spent too much time with my pal Doolin.  Or maybe we speak some kind of cross-species man code.  Or maybe he's really wishing that I should get a life and stop staring at him.