Yesterday I was making a grand attempt to do chores. You know, that housework stuff. I truly should have been born a rich, rich woman so I could hire lovely people to do this stuff for me. I am not good at it. So. Not.
And I have this lovely houseful of dogs who truly believe I should play with them instead of sweeping, doing dishes, and folding laundry.
As I was moving through my to-do list (and goodness knows I’d rather be working on my ta-da list!), a certain wolfdog named Kainan kept trying to convince me that it was time for lunch. Because he is still so thin, I’m feeding him three meals a day so we don’t have to feed him too much at once.
He is very, very fond of the phenomenon of regular meals.
Every step I took found him there, underfoot, looking hopefully toward the dog room where he knows I prepare his gourmet delights (HE thinks I’m a good cook…go figure). Repeatedly, I told him, “It’s not time yet, big guy. You have to wait.”
He remained unconvinced.
Finally, as I was standing in the bedroom folding, folding, folding (I believe the neighbors sneak their laundry in with ours…) and memorized by yet another episode of anything on HGTV (my satellite crack), Kainan walked very deliberately into the room carrying one of the metal dog bowls that WAS on the counter…where the dogs supposedly can’t reach.
Houston, we have a tall one.
He walked straight up to me, executed a perfect sit while holding his head very high, and dropped the metal bowl so it bounced, clanged, and landed right in front of my toes.
Subtle. And clever. And correct. It was 1:00 p.m. on the nose.
Oh funny wolfdog. Message received. Lunch was promptly served.
Looking forward I realize that not only do I have a wolfdog who just might outsmart me…I have a wolfdog who just might be able to do my taxes.
This could be the start of a beautiful relationship, indeed.