Not long ago, after a particularly long week, we tried to put the puppy outside to frolic with the big dogs in the yard. It was a lovely fall day, not too hot, not too cold. The grass was still green. We, the humans of the house, so wanted to enjoy a morning sleeping late. The dogs wanted to be fed and let out. The puppy, used to the morning routine wanted the food, but refused to go outside.
After trying to lure the puppy outside with the grown dogs, my husband chased the puppy into our room. The puppy yelped burrowing under the covers with me, to hide from the dreaded outside.
My husband asked, “She hiding under there?”
“Yes. I don’t think she wants to go outside.”
“You think? Hold on to her, she and me have to have a talk.” While he went to get coffee I reached down to ruffle the ears, pulling the furball out from under the covers. Furball and I cuddled while we waited.
Returning with two cups of coffee, he sat them on the table and settled sitting up in bed. Then we exchanged. Me the puppy for my morning cup of coffee. He the coffee for a squirrel-ly fur ball, with little trust. He sat her on his lap and sighed. This was going to be good, thought I. So I turned curled up with my coffee to watch the exchanged between the two.
“Little girl, we have to have a talk,” he began.
I could hardly hold back a smile. The puppy sat looking up at him with anxious attention, anxious for some ear scratching. The man looking down with a grimace.
He continued on, “Little girl, you are not human.”
He scratched the tip of one ear, “You have pointy ears. See, no pointy ears,” running a finger of his other hand around the curve of his own ear while still scratching hers.
He reached for her paw holding it between his fingers, “See this, it is a paw, a furry paw. See this hand, it is not furry.” In front of the little face he put his free hand wiggling his fingers.
“Paw, hand” He compared the two. Trying to show the puppy the difference. She just licked his hand holding her paw, and tried to wiggle under the other for a belly rub.
“Another thing, we humans? We walk on two, you furballs walk on four. Two, four. Get it. We are different.” First two and then four fingers wiggled in front of a tiny pink tongue trying to make contact. Undaunted that little ball of fur wiggled and waggled up his chest until she was licking his nose. talk’.
“You are not human. You are a dog. Dog’s go outside. They play outside. Outside is a good thing. Here let me show you,” his serious tone voice was in contrast to the playful puppy oblivious to ‘the talk.’
He rose carrying the wriggling fluffy fur to the yard. I followed behind watching him put her down in the yard. The big dogs stopped their play with a stick and watched as he raced to beat the puppy to the door. I quickly returned to bed to claim my space. Seconds behind me, he returned to the bedroom doorway.
“She burrowed under the covers?”
I had to laugh as she squirmed closer to the foot of the bed, her fur tickling the bottom of my feet.
“Think the talk worked?”
“Not really,” I giggled.
He grabbed our cold coffee to the kitchen to warm up. At the sound of his footsteps leaving the room, a furry head poked out from under the covers and jumped off the bed to follow her human daddy down the hall.