then you can
continue to sulk if you want to.”
Red brushed his head against my hand and prompted me
closer to my coffee cup. Good dog. Once I was curled up on a corner
of the sofa, “Your coffee is on the table,” he directed. I
reached out and he clarified, “No, the other way.” His nose
pressed to my wrist to adjust my hand sweep, until I connected to
the ceramic mug, which was a little farther left then I
assumed.
Red lay down against the couch and placed his chin on
my ankles, I'm sure it was so he could stare up at me adoringly.
Pouting apparently forgotten, it struck me he probably still
remembered I was anxious about this visit. “Thanks Red.”
“Very strange.” Bas commented. “I have never seen an
animal do something so...” he searched for the right word,
“specific? It’s one thing to lead you to the couch, it’s a whole
new level when he moves your hand to locate something you didn't
tell him you wanted.”
Grinning, “Red knows by now, I always need coffee in
my hand,” I explained, taking a long sip.
“So, what was the not-argument about?” Bas asked in
an almost friendly manner.
I choked on the swallow of coffee I’d taken. Yeah, my
dog's laughter filled my head. “I'll go get you a towel,” he
offered, moving away from the couch and returning a moment later to
lay a dish towel on my leg.
Stalling maybe, but it took a moment to mop up the
coffee I’d spilled onto my hand and, under the direction of my
ever-helpful dog, the few spots which trickled onto my t-shirt.
Having decided, I turned to Bas and answered truthfully, “Red told
me when we were at the counter you smelled my hair. I was
disagreeing and calling him a trouble maker.”
“Well, I'll admit I caught a whiff of your shampoo
when I reached over for the cups. Something fruity, smelled
nice.”
“ See!” Red crowed.
“I'm starting to believe you can really talk to your
dog, although it’s a leap to believe he talks back to you.”
“He can't read, color identification is a bit
inconsistent since dogs can't see red or green like we do, and we
have figured out he doesn't count accurately above four. But, he's
been exposed to quite a bit, and is good with items around the
house.” I paused to think for a moment. “He is very good at
describing things, but it has to be in the context of something he
has experienced or smelled. And, he's teaching me about body
language, not that it’s going to benefit me, since I can't see.
It’s interesting to experience the world the way he sees it. He has
some pretty strong opinions about people sniffing each other.
“Go ahead and point out something to him. Red can
tell me what it is.”
Bas was silent as he thought things through. “I'm
going to collect a few things from around the room and bring them
back to the coffee table,” he said. “Want a top-off on your mug
while I'm up?”
In answer, I held out my cup. I noticed he was
careful not to touch me as he lifted it out of my hand. Bas
wandered around the room, stopping often, presumably to examine or
pick up an item. Within a few minutes, I could hear him at the
coffeemaker before he wandered back to the couch. A soft multi
tap-thud indicated he had placed a number of items on the coffee
table.
Another, shorter interval, before he returned, “Hand
out,” he instructed, “I have your coffee.” He gently folded my
outstretched fingers around my mug, placing it in my hand the way I
usually held it, handle away from me.
“Okay,” he started, “I picked up a few things. Your
dog, Red, can tell you what they are when I point at them.” There
was a bit of scraping and tapping as he rearranged them on the
coffee table in front of me.
Bas must have pointed at something because Red told
me, “It’s your fish.”
“Murphy, my betta.”
An acknowledging grunt was all Bastian offered.
“ I don't know what that's called,” Red told
continue to sulk if you want to.”
Red brushed his head against my hand and prompted me
closer to my coffee cup. Good dog. Once I was curled up on a corner
of the sofa, “Your coffee is on the table,” he directed. I
reached out and he clarified, “No, the other way.” His nose
pressed to my wrist to adjust my hand sweep, until I connected to
the ceramic mug, which was a little farther left then I
assumed.
Red lay down against the couch and placed his chin on
my ankles, I'm sure it was so he could stare up at me adoringly.
Pouting apparently forgotten, it struck me he probably still
remembered I was anxious about this visit. “Thanks Red.”
“Very strange.” Bas commented. “I have never seen an
animal do something so...” he searched for the right word,
“specific? It’s one thing to lead you to the couch, it’s a whole
new level when he moves your hand to locate something you didn't
tell him you wanted.”
Grinning, “Red knows by now, I always need coffee in
my hand,” I explained, taking a long sip.
“So, what was the not-argument about?” Bas asked in
an almost friendly manner.
I choked on the swallow of coffee I’d taken. Yeah, my
dog's laughter filled my head. “I'll go get you a towel,” he
offered, moving away from the couch and returning a moment later to
lay a dish towel on my leg.
Stalling maybe, but it took a moment to mop up the
coffee I’d spilled onto my hand and, under the direction of my
ever-helpful dog, the few spots which trickled onto my t-shirt.
Having decided, I turned to Bas and answered truthfully, “Red told
me when we were at the counter you smelled my hair. I was
disagreeing and calling him a trouble maker.”
“Well, I'll admit I caught a whiff of your shampoo
when I reached over for the cups. Something fruity, smelled
nice.”
“ See!” Red crowed.
“I'm starting to believe you can really talk to your
dog, although it’s a leap to believe he talks back to you.”
“He can't read, color identification is a bit
inconsistent since dogs can't see red or green like we do, and we
have figured out he doesn't count accurately above four. But, he's
been exposed to quite a bit, and is good with items around the
house.” I paused to think for a moment. “He is very good at
describing things, but it has to be in the context of something he
has experienced or smelled. And, he's teaching me about body
language, not that it’s going to benefit me, since I can't see.
It’s interesting to experience the world the way he sees it. He has
some pretty strong opinions about people sniffing each other.
“Go ahead and point out something to him. Red can
tell me what it is.”
Bas was silent as he thought things through. “I'm
going to collect a few things from around the room and bring them
back to the coffee table,” he said. “Want a top-off on your mug
while I'm up?”
In answer, I held out my cup. I noticed he was
careful not to touch me as he lifted it out of my hand. Bas
wandered around the room, stopping often, presumably to examine or
pick up an item. Within a few minutes, I could hear him at the
coffeemaker before he wandered back to the couch. A soft multi
tap-thud indicated he had placed a number of items on the coffee
table.
Another, shorter interval, before he returned, “Hand
out,” he instructed, “I have your coffee.” He gently folded my
outstretched fingers around my mug, placing it in my hand the way I
usually held it, handle away from me.
“Okay,” he started, “I picked up a few things. Your
dog, Red, can tell you what they are when I point at them.” There
was a bit of scraping and tapping as he rearranged them on the
coffee table in front of me.
Bas must have pointed at something because Red told
me, “It’s your fish.”
“Murphy, my betta.”
An acknowledging grunt was all Bastian offered.
“ I don't know what that's called,” Red told
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