Communication

He looks at me with pleading eyes. This is always the first step. Then, he finds a way to get close to me in some way. He shoves his nose in my face or sits with two paws grasping for my arms. Once he has me in his grip he pins his ears back and opens his eyes as wide as they’ll get as if to say, “Are you seeing me?” Of course, I see him, but the ritual must continue.

His paws grip my skin more tightly in a desperate attempt to rally my attention. He wants me to know what he needs so badly, but I am just a simple human. He knows he needs to try something else, so he begins to open his mouth slightly. He doesn’t start out with a bark. He has manners, and he knows it’s not polite. But, he has to make me understand what he needs somehow.

So, his mouth opens ever so slightly. His tongue makes its first appearance but utters no sound; it only moves slightly. He sees that I still haven’t moved. I haven’t begun heeding his orders. He must go on in order to make me understand how desperate his need for this is! So, a slight whimper follows shortly after. Perhaps a squeak or two like you might hear from a hefty yawn. Again, he sees that I haven’t moved. Why hasn’t she moved? I just sit there watching his struggle as he tries to make me understand.

Alas! He can take it no more! He tries to talk to me. He knows barking is not an option, so he moves his jaw up and down as he tries desperately to form the words for me. He can bear it no longer! Polite or impolite he must make me understand! Bark! Bark! Loud and thundering he tries to make his point known deep into my chest. It works, but I need to know exactly what it is.

He just peed, so it can’t possibly be that he needs to go outside. I refuse to indulge him. I look into his eyes so full of anguish I can barely stand it.

I ask, “Water?” His ears cock slightly, though I see no movement. No. It’s not water.

“Do you need food? Are you hungry?” His muscles instinctively twitch at the mention.

He licks my face incessantly. I’ve done it! He rushes to the spot he knows he’ll find what he needs. He checks over his shoulder a few times to make sure I’ve followed him. He can’t give up now. I reach into the cabinet and drop a cup full of food into his bowl. He wags his tail approvingly and digs in. He did it! It seemed impossible, but he did it. He scarfs down his food as if it was the last time he’d ever eat. He licks his chops, savoring each flavor. He jumps into bed, rested and satisfied. His muscles relax. There’s nothing more he needs now; But when he does he’ll know exactly how to get it.