If we are in the same room

He’s at our feet

Zonked out on the floor.

If we move rooms

It doesn’t take long

Before you hear his nails

Click-clack on the floor and he’s coming.

If we are in different rooms

He lies in the hallway between.

He sleeps more than I thought possible

For a dog.

A cat I understand, of course. They like to be awake at night.

But he sleeps 60% of the day and 99.9% of the night.

He’s teaching me

Some very helpful lessons these days

About slowing down,

And resting,

And just being.

Around 4:00 p.m. he settles down

By the front door

Cause dad is coming home soon.

I don’t know how he knows it’s 4:00 pm. 

But he does.

When my husband (his dad) comes home

His tail becomes a whip back and forth

And he’s climbing him and licking his face, his ears.

Kevin scratches his sides and proclaims over and over

Like he’s a gold medalist, “DASH-BOY JUNIOUR!”

That type of greeting every day 

Is bound to put you in a good mood.

When I get home

He curls his little body

Into some version of a C

And wags his tail 

And comes forward to do his duty.

He is the “YEAH, YOUR HOME!” Greeter.

He lets me scratch him,

But he knows not to climb me,

Or lick me. I don’t like licks.

I’ve seen where his snout goes

On his daily walks.

And he’s smart enough to differentiate

Between my version of a nice greeting,

And Kevin’s.

His other duty around here is

“Head Kitchen Supervisor.”

He’s very concerned that what we consume

Could be harmful to us, his favourite humans.

So he generously does free taste tasting.

He also is a hands free floor vacuum for fallen food.

But he’s NOT into mopping.

Unless you count the drool that drips from his jowls

In strings and pools on the floor when we have steak.

He doesn’t bark, unless some young whipper snapper of a pup

Won’t leave him alone. 

The only time I saw him growl was over a bone he and the 

Aforementioned pup also wanted.

He’s no use as a guard dog. He greets everyone with joy 

He’s also on “Street Patrol.” Him and Ozzie across the street.

They both lie on their ottoman’s and keep watch over the neighbourhood comings and goings.

I wonder if they communicate somehow. Cause as soon as the door opens, if Dash is headed anywhere, it’s to Ozzie’s.

To pee over there.

Sorry Ron.

He snores sometimes.

He sounds like a pig with a cold.

I don’t mind it when he’s at my feet and I’m reading.

But in the middle of the night 

It’s a problem.

My husband will holler his name or throw a pillow in his direction and he’ll stop.

He sleeps in his bed on our bedroom floor.

He used to sleep outside the bedroom 

Because when I first arrived 

I had standards.

But he’d whine in the night…

And his eyes looked so sad when we’d lock him out…

And the next thing we knew

He was in the room.

But NOT in the bed.

I hold that standard.

Last night Dash-Boy decided 

His bed wasn’t good enough

And came to scratch around in my pile 

Of clothes on the floor to make himself

A nice, cozy, mama-smelling nest.

I woke up and was not impressed 

To see him scratching at my clothes

And I ordered him to HIS bed.

He slunk away, nails clicking on the laminate.

But in the morning,

There he was,

Asleep in a nest of my fuzzy reading socks,

PJ pants, T-shirts and a hoodie.

Note to self: Reasons NOT to leave my clothes on the ground.

I got out of bed, ready to lay the law down,

But then he lifted his big brown eyes,

Heavy with sleep,

And slowly eased himself over

On his side

And that was a Dash-Boy invitation

For a belly rub.

You can’t stay mad at that.

If we drive him to go for his walks

He is super aware of where we are at all times.

He knows our routes.

When we get close, or even turn onto a road that leads

To a place he likes to walk,

He get’s excited and balances his back legs on the back seat 

And his forepaws on the console between us 

and licks Kevin’s ear as a pre-thank-you before we even arrive.

He’s a hit at drive-throughs. 

He pushes his way to the front to ensure the lady 

Behind the sliding glass door

See’s him. Cause if she does

He’s most certainly going to get praise

AND maybe free food.

His nick-name at Timmies is, “The Cuteness.”

On a walk he’s ever eager to be social.

His favourite place to walk is a huge dog park

Where it’s basically a dog party.

Like something off a Disney movie. 

A huge loping husky,

A tummy barely skimming the snow corgy,

A long-legged lab,

A mouthy Shih Tzu

All running together in a pack,

Having the time of their lives,

With our Dash, chest high, tail straight up,

Proudly leading the way.

His expressions are something else.

I can’t get over how many emotions a dog can show.

I always had cats growing up and their poker faces were not as easy to define.

But Dash…

Dash sad.

Dash happy.
Dash curious.

Dash annoyed.

Dash practicing forbearance (especially around toddlers),

Dash jealous.

Dash pouting.
Dash antzy.

Dash, OVER IT.

Dash suspicious.

Dash desperate.

Dash frisky.

Dash content.

Dash empathizing with your tears.

Dash asleep…

again.

There’s no living without him.

It’s so strange how much an animal can fill out a home,

Complete it, be your companion, truly, so you don’t feel lonely.

Oh sometimes he’s a bother.

Like when I’m doing Pilates and I’m holding a very complicated

Position and he comes and let’s his droopy jowls 

Hang right in front of my face.

Or when he sneaks on to the couch,

Where he is NOT allowed,

And gets caught,

And gets sent to bed.

Or when he wakes us up 3x in the night with his scratching,

snoring, thumping and random squeaks when he’s chasing a rabbit in his dreams.

But mostly,

99.9% of the time

He’s not a bother

At all.

He’s an extension of us.

He’s family.

We ask God to make him immortal,

Cause now I get that.

How much a dog 

Can become 

More than a dog

In your heart.

The best is when Kevin scoops him up

And holds him like a baby,

And Dash’s expression is a cross between

Feeling awkward in this unnatural position

And feeling so delighted to be this close to his 

Favourite human’s face.

He licks Kevin’s face and ear

And I come in for a family hug

And the look of appreciation

Just shines from his big, brown eyes

And I stroke his silky sides

And white paws.

That’s our Dash-Boy.