It was 4 AM when I heard him come to my bedroom. I knew it was the pup – he has a very distinctive walk; it sounds like he is shuffling along the floor in slippers. I lifted my head and, sure enough, he was standing in the entrance, watching expectantly. It crossed my mind that he would go back to his couch if I insisted, but I’d probably have to clean up if I didn’t let him out now. His tail wagged slowly when I crawled out of bed.
“You couldn’t hold it for a couple of hours?’ I scolded him sleepily. The tail wagged a little faster. Being Smooch, he didn’t move as I approached him. The older pit, Grump, would have run ahead to the door already, and would wait there for his human to arrive. For some reason, Smooch always forces you go around him, then practically trips you up by leaning into your legs as he walks along beside you. It’s as if he craves the contact. I’ve tried to break him of the habit, but so far any method used hasn’t succeeded. I literally stumbled to the kitchen, holding myself steady by keeping a hand on the wall to counteract his now 90 pound weight.
We made it without mishap, and I opened the door. His nose crossed the threshold ...and he stopped. Telling him to go, then firmly shoving with my foot ... he wouldn’t budge. Neither was he fooled into following me when I reluctantly stepped outside. Br-r-r! My coaxing from there didn’t last long – bare feet and summer pj’s are not ideal wear in this sudden onslaught of frigid mountain air! I jumped back into the house, and the stubborn dog was still standing in the same place. I couldn’t shut the door.
“Move your head or lose it!” My tone told him I wasn’t kidding, and he retreated out of the way, rolling his eyes up in a woebegone expression. He has it down to perfection. You know the one – the hush puppy ‘hang-dog’ soulful gaze that can make you feel so-o-o guilty! He was still wearing it as he followed my pointing finger to his couch and slowly climbed up onto it. I couldn’t help but smile at the loud, long-suffering sigh he emitted when he realized that I was going back to bed. He’s still a puppy; I have to remember that, I mused silently.
Ha! The ‘puppy’ left a horse-sized puddle on the floor before the hour was over. .. of course I stepped in it! He had needed to go, but Monsieur didn’t care for the cold?? Now he had two strikes against him, waking me early then wetting the floor, and it was not even daylight yet!!
He kept his head down, as well he should. Only his eyes moved as I soaked up the excess with half a roll of paper towel, then dug out the mop and pail, grumbling without stop. They say it’s not productive to scold a dog after the fact. Well, ‘they’ were not forced to wash the floor at 5 AM; it was me doing that! Although I didn’t actually speak directly TO him, I couldn’t help throwing dirty glances as I completed the job. Without a doubt he knew he was on the sh*t list.
Who really knows how a dog thinks?
Ten minutes later I was sitting at my desk, sipping coffee and reading e-mails, and I heard him come down the hall. Ever so slowly he shuffled over and put his head on my lap. Without saying a word, I stood up and once more we walked together to the kitchen door. I opened it. He started out, stopped, looked up at me for a moment, then kept going. I closed the door behind him and waited. He stood still, sniffing the air. I saw the shiver run over his body, then he sat down on the spot where he was, and craned his head around to look back at me through the glass before turning away to stare into the dark. When I returned 5 minutes later he was still in the same place, holding the same position, and I watched as he shivered again. Obviously he had not needed to pee, so what was the point of this exercise?
When he heard the door open, he moved quickly to come back inside. Halfway in he stopped and shoved his wet nose in my hand, doing the Smooch-thing, leaning against me, transmitting all the love there is in that gangly, puppy body. In spite of the cold, we stood there for a special moment; the forgiver and the forgiven.
Was I the former or the latter in this pup’s mind? I realized that it didn’t really matter, and I SMILED.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec
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