Sometimes it’s easy to know what they’re thinking.
Earlier today, I sat with 8 eyes boring a hole in the back of my skull. “Will she drop it? Will she drop it?”
“Sorry boys, you’ve had your supper. This one’s mine.”
Or the mantra that runs through his head as he drops to the ground staring at the object lying between us. “Throw the ball. Throw the ball. Throw the ball.”
But sometimes I’m just too human to get it. Last night, while I sat up doing a bit of reading (and not falling asleep by the 3rd paragraph … huzaah!), he jumps up to take his place at the foot of the bed, and a moment later he’s down again, trots over to the corner and tries to climb behind the laundry hamper, comes back to the middle of the room, stares at me, mumbles something, silent stares and a few more mumbles.
“I don’t know what you want. No snacks! Get to bed.”
He jumps up, and 30 seconds later he’s down again. Pace, pace, pace. Still not sure what he wants, I get up to let him out. Not interested. There are no fireworks tonight, as far as I can tell. What is it? I sigh, yawn, and return to the bedroom. It’s warm so I stop to turn on the air conditioner, turn out the lights and climb back into bed.
Suddenly, all is right with his world. Was the air conditioner now loud enough to block outside noises? Or was it the broken routine of lights-out that had disturbed him?
OCD?! My dog?!
Can you guess what breed?
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