Today, I did something very unusual for me: I took a break.
I just stopped all my frantic cookie cutting and herb sifting (I have a huge order from a big tack store I'm trying to fill) and I went outside and stretched out under an oak tree. I was lying there, listening to the horses munching on their hay and staring at the clouds scooting in and out of the tree tops, when the most amazing thing happened.
My dog Allie came up to me and hung her mouth directly in front of my face. I pushed her away, told her she was "blocking my view." She came back and hung her muzzle in front of my face.
"Alllllllllllllllllllie," I whined.
But she wouldn't listen.
"What do you want?" I asked.
To which my big, black dog very purposely opened her mouth to show me a view of a thin, bone-like looking thing stretched across the roof of her mouth. I stuck my finger up there to check it out. Sure enough, the bone-like thing was not a natural part of her mouth. So I pulled.
Allie resisted the pressure but she did not pull away. She just kept her mouth open -- like one does when one is at the dentist. With a few tugs, the bone-like thing snapped out.
Allie and I stared at it together.
It smelled a little vile, as if it had been lodged up there in the roof of her mouth for too long. I remembered how, during the past few nights, Allie has been licking at herself obsessively. And how I have been telling her to stop so I can fall asleep. I feel really bad about that now.
But here is the reason I'm writing this-- my dog took the very first opportunity she had to communicate with me. It was a very obvious, direct conversation on her part. And it has me wondering: how long do our animals wait patiently for us to sit still for just a moment so that they can tell us something important?
SKODE




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