I don’t understand the grunts.
She’s fed, she’s walked, she’s loved.
Why the complaints?
Hmmmf,
she groans, like a sad muppet.
Is she mad that I’m lounging in one of her favorite spots?
But she has 14 other favorite spots in this house.
What more could a princess dog desire?
Hmmmmmf.
Now she sounds like an annoyed trumpet.
I note her grievance and invite her to join me.
Up, up!
Pat pat.
Up!
Eventually she relents and jumps up to join me on the guest bed.
She lies against my leg with her head facing me.
So she’s not mad.
Because her eyes are soft and seeking contact with mine.
Brown eyes to brown eyes,
we have an understanding.
She closes her eyes and her sleep breathing is musical.
Hearing it, feeling it
I relax.
But when I pet her head she wakes and turns away from me.
Nope.
Too soon.
After an annoyed sigh, she turns back to glare at me, as if to say
Don’t make me
break out
the trumpet again,
lady.