POST III: T OBSERVATIONS

Well, you know I had to talk about the Ts, didn't you?

I was watching them this morning--cautiously, since they'll stop what they're doing if they catch me watching them. They have this game they play in the morning, only on work mornings--they've never done it on weekends or holidays. Timber pesters Taenzer, then runs through the kitchen into the living room with Taenzer hot on his heels. They each jump on a couch, go "grr! grr! grr!" at each other, one of them (usually Timber) breaks and runs back through the kitchen into the bedroom and jumps on the bed. If it's Timber he playbows when Taenzer arrives, they go "grr! grr! grr!" and have a short bout of "shark-face," then Timber jumps off the bed, runs through the kitchen... repeat until they're out of breath or Mom catches them in the act.

Shark-face!

I love watching their body language. Timber's tail is always up above horizontal, but his ears are generally back. Taenzer's ears are always up, and her tail is horizontal but wagging in a relaxed, happy way. She faces him full-on, and he generally will turn his head very slightly away. He's the instigator and leader of the game, but he's still deferring to her position as alpha bitch.

And they both smile--those open-mouthed, tongue-hanging-out, crinkly-eyed smiles dogs get when they're having a good time.

Timber doesn't really like me to approach him head-on--his ears go back and he turns his head away. If I have my wits about me and take the hint, I turn sideways to him and turn my head and sometimes yawn, and this perks him right up; he turns in toward me and often I get a little kiss for my trouble. If there's a tennis ball involved, however, the dynamics change, his ears come up, he makes direct and sustained eye contact during which I'm positive he's exercising his telepathic powers: "Throw the ball! Come on and throw the ball!" Although he (usually) remains polite, puts the ball into my cupped hands, then backs up a step or two and sits to wait for the throw.

I also think he's playing me, the brat--for several weeks at dinner time, he's sat in the back hall while I fix their dinners, looking just as pathetic as he can manage. I've been putting his dinner down and saying "Okay!" which is his release word. But he hesitates and I've had to invite him several times, and finally pick up a kibble from the broth and show it to him, then put it back; then he'll come in and eat. Now it's escalated--he puts his nose in his dinner, then walks away. Being a good paranoid mommy, I kneel down and tap the edge of the dish and encourage him to come eat, then sit beside him and talk to him while he does. Yes, I know good and well that if I picked his dish up and put it away for the night, he'd gobble it down the next day. It's his eyes, I tell you! His eyes hypnotize me! I mean, how can anyone resist this face??