If a dog’s prayers were answered, bones would rain from the sky.
The past few days I’ve been watching some friends’ critters—two dogs and some fish. More so, the dogs have been watching me. Looking at me. Wondering how far they can push my buttons or confuse me.
One is a
Labrador pig, and doesn’t have that trigger in his brain to stop eating or lapping up water. So he falls under portion control surveillance.
The other, pictured above, has these dark “please don’t beat me” eyes—er, um, “puppy dog eyes.” She’s got a grass-is-greener disorder, and must be on the other side of the door every half hour or so. She sits there pleading as if she needs to pee, only to step across the threshold and immediately flop down to rest.
I’ve long thought I was a dog person, but I remind myself, there’s a reason why I list “other people’s pets” as an interest in online profiles.