I have always assumed that Milly, the liver-and-white springer spaniel that lives at my house, loves me.
She happily greets me at the door when I get home. She licks my face. She curls up next to me in bed when I read at night. She’s lying at my feet now as I write this on my laptop.
Dogs are called man’s best friend, and I think there’s a valid reason for that. Dogs seek out our companionship, and they generally try to please us. They are happy when we are happy, and they can sense when we’ve had a bad day.
With apologies to my cat-loving friends, dogs are better than cats in this regard. Cats don’t much care too much whether human beings are around or not. They are much more content than dogs to be by themselves, so long as someone comes along periodically and opens a can of Fancy Feast.
I read an article online last week entitled “50 Ways Your Dog Communicates She Loves You.” At first, I thought this would be great to read. Then I saw the subtitle: “You might be surprised!”
Suddenly, I was concerned. Maybe my assumptions about Milly weren’t true. Maybe she not as happy to see me when I get home as I had thought. She’s not much of a conversationalist, and maybe I’m not picking up on the signals she’s sending.
Perhaps when I get home, she’s actually thinking, “Good, the bald-headed guy is finally here. Maybe now I can get something to eat, and maybe he’ll take some time tonight to clean up this dump.”
Instead of lying next to me as I read at night, “If that idiot thinks I’m going to sleep on the floor while he sleeps on this comfy mattress, he really is as dumb as I think he is.”
For most of the five years Milly has lived with me, she’s had one annoying habit. She wakes up — and wants me to wake up — as soon as it is daylight outside. I have always assumed that she did this because she was excited to start another day and to see what kind of fun she and I had in store. But what it if it is really some type of devious plot to drive me crazy by making me sleep deprived?
Just this week, I came home at lunch to find one of her favorite toys in about a million pieces. I may be finding pieces of stuffing for a week.
Milly was on the other side of the room, her tail between her legs, as if to say she was sorry. But maybe destroying a toy was her way of getting back at me for something, like forgetting to feed her on time or not going on a long-enough walk.
My worries, however, are apparently unfounded. According to article, our dogs are crazy about us. It’s backed up by scientific fact, and you can’t argue with science.
“Surely you have caught your canine doing something bizarre, like staring intently as you, that has made you question his mental status,” the article said. “No worries. It just means the dogs loves you and wants your attention.”
What a load off my mind. I’m taking no chances, however. I told Glory dinner will be served promptly and on time. And as soon as I’m done writing this, we’re going out for a long walk.
