Dog Person

I never considered myself a dog person until Chuy came along. I liked dogs fine. I've been owned by a number of them throughout the years. But I've always been partial to cats and never was what you would call a Dog Person. Chuy seems to be changing all that.

Since Memorial Day Bill has spent the majority of his time in Arizona fixing up the house and Chuy and the cats and the parrots and I are here in Dillon Beach. Chuy misses his dad greatly but has wormed himself pretty fully into my life. He realizes I'm a different type of person than his daddy who will rough house with him in the evenings (throwing the stupid "Legs" toy numeroso times to the dog's delight). Chuy's lucky if he can get Mom to throw it five or six times. But Chuy is smart enough to know that each of his parents react in different ways and the doggie has picked up on that.

He knows that when Mom comes home at the end of a busy day at the boathouse, he's prepared to wrap himself around the pillow on the couch so she can lay down and nap for a few minutes before he starts pestering her to play with him. He knows she likes to read a book laying down on the couch while the cats nap on her belly and legs, so he too finds a spot near her head, sometimes kicking her in the face with his little feet while she attempts to read.

Friday I was upset with the puppy for pulling out the newspaper from the macaws' cages while I was working. When I returned every hour or two to walk him, I'd find torn up newspaper scattered around the birds' cages, and I'd reprimand him while I cleaned up the mess. Chuy began hiding behind the couch when I came in instead of greeting me with delight at the door.

So on Saturday, I decided I wouldn't pick up the paper messes each time I came in and not say anything to him. No need to be reprimanding him when it was doing no good, I reasoned. Saturday was a long day and Chuy didn't get out much to play, but each time I returned to the house, he hadn't messed with the birds' papers but he still remained hiding behind the couch, peeking out when I came into the room to see if I was going to yell at him. (I didn't!)

I can hear Chuy's side of the story: I can't understand my mom. Every time she came back to the house on Friday, she was chewing me out for something or other. I took to hiding behind the couch because you could tell nothing was going to make her happy. Then, like magic, on Saturday every time she came in to walk me, she was all sweet and nice and never yelled at me. But I hid out each time anyway. That Mom... you just don't know when she's going to get pissed at you!

So yes, I've become one of those "Dog People". We try to understand what's going on in those little doggie minds and either live with it or try to change the behavior. We delight in those happy-go-lucky doggie grins when Puppy is happy and all is Right with the World. We get all proud when strangers stop to admire our dog and tell us what a cutie he is. (And they are right of course!) We begin to know strangers by their dog's names before we know theirs.

These are just some of the character traits of Dog People I've added lately. I'm sure there are others. I'll probably get worse before I get better. And I still love my cats. But really... Chuy is growing on me and maybe he's just bringing out the inherent Dog Person that lived in me along.