Posting days: Wednesday and Sunday and, now and again interim extras.
Wednesday February 13th 2019
The more Isis and I learn about each other, the better we communicate. Which makes sense.
And the better we communicate, the more relaxed we are with each other and the more we enjoy each other’s company. At least, I know that I am enjoying being Hairy One’s human more every day. It seems an extravagant claim, but that’s how it feels.
Whether the hairy delight feels the same about me is, of course, a matter of conjecture, but she appears to.
Our morning reunions are lovely. She can’t hear me getting up, of course, but by the time I’ve wandered past her open door a few times, gathering scattered items – keys, phone, a bottle of water, her collar -my scent has usually reached her and woken her up, and I can just sit down next to her.
Even as short a time as a few months ago, this would have startled her into an aggressive, barky leap.
Not any more. If she is still sleeping, before I sit down I hold my hand close to her nose and mouth until she breathes in my smell and wakes up.
Once fully awake, she anticipates my greetings. The first stroke sets her tail wagging – unless she’s lying on it, in which case I tell her to undo it, and release it myself from beneath a hairy leg.
Now at every touch her tail becomes a fluffy metronome. A kiss on the head sets off the most prolonged wag. Swish, swish, swish, swish.
She’s in no hurry to get up. She colludes with me in my sloppiness, even allowing me to wrap my arms around her and give her firm hugs.
Yes, I know, such exchanges are everyday occurrences in dog households. You expect your dog to enjoy being made a fuss of, don’t you?
No, not this once belligerent little animal. Her acceptance of physical closeness is still magical to me.