Do you ever think your dog is a human wrapped in fur? I wonder sometimes. Tasia, one of our Yorkies, is a human wrapped in fur. She seems to thoughtfully consider what is being said, setting the wheels of response in motion. It’s unnerving.
Tasia loves both of us, but for sure my husband is her human. I am home with her all day every day and she lays close by or insists I lift her onto the bed even though she is fully capable herself. I can be sitting in my office mesmerized by yet another Zoom meeting (that is called sarcasm, kids) and Tasia will trot into my office, trot across the hall into the bedroom, trot back again and repeat until I drop everything and place her diva-ness onto the bed. She communicates loudly with little more than eye contact – the kind that makes one feel guilty when there is nothing to feel guilty about. Know what I mean? When my husband walks through the door, Tasia comes alive running and jumping and welcoming him home as if she has been alone all day despite the multiple times she and I interacted. Clearly, I am a placeholder until daddy gets home. I don’t take offense, some dogs have preferences, right?
Tasia has human eyes; laser beams to the soul, to be precise. We know when we have her approval and when we have disappointed her. Tasia turns her head away to demonstrate her disapproval. Her eyes say it all, “I will need to think about how I feel regarding what you just said (or did) and get back to you.” Alrighty then, we will await your response. I’m pretty sure she purses her lips, too.
Today, I acted and her response was immediate. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out I was in the doghouse, or would it be considered the human house? In any case, I sprayed her with an all natural flea and tick spray we use instead of medications or flea collars. Happy she was not. Tasia ran into the bedroom, jumped onto the neatly made bed (see, she can do it when she wants to), and proceeded to completely rearrange the bedding. When I walked into the bedroom, there she sat on one of the pillows, blasting me with her laser beam eyes. Nary a bark was uttered but the message was loud and clear. She was not happy with me.
Tasia loves to go for a walk, but get out the harness and the chase is on. I follow her around the house begging and pleading with her until she reluctantly allows me to get her ready. Is it the color of the harness? The type of leash? Is she embarrassed to wear a harness? Who knows? All I know is that I am not taking her for a walk – it’s the other way around. We travel the route of her choosing. When we encounter someone along the way who piques her interest, she stops in her tracks, watches and thoughtfully considers their existence. That is my interpretation, anyway. Once said person of interest passes by, Tasia decides to follow or turn in the opposite direction. I’m not entirely sure what her criteria are for following, but more times than not we follow close behind. From their perspective, I often wonder if the person feels like they are being stalked. More than a few times the stalk-ee hazards a glance over their shoulder. I have been known to offer an explanation with an awkward chuckle, “I guess she decided we will walk with you for a bit”. I sense, more than see, an eye roll. I must look harmless enough because the police haven’t been alerted so far.
Despite her laser beam eyes and quirky personality, Tasia’s spirit is sweet and gentle. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and is quick to comfort, console, and show her affection. She definitely is not an ordinary run-of-the-mill dog. She is our human wrapped in fur…..