"This may look like Sarah Jane is looking up to Heaven, but actually she is responding to her master's request to 'look up'. I took a picture of her alongside the expensive grandfather clock she chewed the corner off of during her first year with us. As you by now know, we love Sarah much more than we do the clock."
Someone once told me I was obsessed with Facebook. I think there are degrees of obsession, and while it’s true I check the site half a dozen times a day, it’s not something I think about constantly. (That obsession is reserved for becoming a successful novelist.)
What I found interesting on Facebook the other day was a conversation among dog lovers about what we resort to in order to get our pooches to come in from playtime in the yard.
Sarah Jane’s favorite person doesn’t have to say much. He calls her to come inside and if she disobeys he simply starts toward her and she comes running. I don’t get it; he’s never laid a hand on her but she knows who’s boss.
If The Boss isn’t around and I have to do the job, I usually get ignored. It’s not like I’m athletically inclined and can chase Sarah around until she figures out I’m serious. To add insult to injury, the dog will get out as far as she can, turn and squint at me, then bark.
My Facebook friends shared words and phrases they used, and mine were similar. I’ve used supper, let’s eat, Daddy’s home, and ice cream. There have been times I lied just to get Sarah to come to me but that usually backfires. She won’t respond again for a long while once she’s been fooled.
We’ve had many dogs over the years yet this one has me flummoxed. She’s easily the biggest, and our first Lab. Maybe this breed is supposed to stay a puppy until who-knows-when. Here she is, five years old and still acting like every morning is Christmas. One would think that walks get boring after a month or two, yet Sarah gets sparkly-eyed and bouncy (and loud) when it’s time to stroll downtown and back. Oh, heaven!
This dog is like a child when it comes to winding down for the night. She’s so reluctant to turn in she keeps her chin on the sofa arm, nose pointed toward her master just in case he decides to do something fun. We can’t make any sudden moves or she’s on us like a flash, ready to take on anything and anyone.
I wouldn’t want to leave the impression that Sarah thinks I’m worthless. Every morning without fail we can count on her to slurp water, pad around the kitchen table and gently place her soggy chin on my leg. Once she feels her face is dry enough she steps back, tilts her head and wrinkles her forehead. That’s dog language for, “Get up and take me out.” Funny, I’m supposed to understand and obey her but she doesn’t feel obligated to return the favor.
Besides the puppy-like behavior at walk time, Sarah still steals things and tries to eat them. A couple of weeks ago we found evidence that she’d eaten some very odd things indeed and we waited anxiously to see if she had done any permanent damage to herself. She seems fine, though I realize we can’t ever really let our guard down. Doors must remain shut to rooms with tempting chewables, and other precautions taken to keep Sarah safe from herself.
We dog lovers know that our loyal furry friends come into our lives for a too-short time. They provide unconditional love, zero criticism, hold no grudges and forgive us our shortcomings. No wonder it tears a hole in our heart and soul when they pass on—there’s no one on Earth like them.
To all of you out there blessed to have a dog by your side, enjoy him or her while you can. And it wouldn’t hurt to take lessons from them on how to treat one another, either, especially if you agree with the second sentence in the paragraph above. I’m still learning.
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