I feel weird about dwelling on other dogs more than I’m thinking about Abby. But the thought of her is never far away. Tonight, when I was attempting to exercise, I kept looking over at the door out of habit, to see if she needed to come inside or go outside. She always planned her excursions when I was in the most awkward stance possible. She was funny that way.
And today I found myself spelling out “chicken,” rather than saying the word, because she always got her hopes up that she was getting a treat. I still spell out “naughty,” because we used that word when she needed to be scolded (which was rare), and I didn’t want her to feel bad when she’d done nothing wrong.
She was quite a comedian when we were getting ready to go to sleep. We would lie in bed reading, and she would settle at the end of the bed, curled up in a little ball near our feet. I would get up to brush my teeth or to check that the house was locked up for the night. When I would come back to bed, there would be a puppy in the spot where I usually slept. She would put her head between her paws, looking up at me furtively. A couple times, I tried to lie down beside her in an attempt to get her to move out of my space, but she wouldn’t budge. It usually took some food bribery (which was rewarding the behavior, I know… but it got her to move, and I got a warm puppy spot out of the deal).
