My Life with Dogs, Part II

Max is the little Cavalier King Charles Spaniel who resides with us now. He is true to his breed, in that he craves attention. His life revolves around his people. His day is made if you invite him to lie in your lap, or even snuggle up next to you. The little guy’s goal in life is to please…no, that’s not right. Rather, his goal in life is that his people love on him. He is not too concerned about behaving himself.

Max has learned several tricks. The possibility that he might receive a treat for a successfully performed trick is enough to cause extreme excitement. His tail wags so hard, his whole body shakes. Even when he can’t remember which trick he is expected to do when asked to shake, he will perform his entire retinue just to cover all his bases. His dead dog always has a furiously wagging tail.

He loves the two cats, Buck and Jeeves, too. Max is just as devoted to them as he is to his people. I don’t think that they share that devotion, though. His intense desire to play with them looks a whole lot like torment. He is about the same size as they are, and though they tolerate him most of the time, occasionally, Buck or Jeeves will give him what for. This absolutely mystifies him. After one of these acts of retribution, I watched him retreat to the couch and stare into space for half an hour. Had he learned his lesson? For that day, maybe. The next day, he was in their face again, just as if nothing had happened.

Max’s loyalty has no limits. If his cats are outside, he knows it. When they are ready to come in, he knows that, too, even when his people don’t. You’d think a break-in was about to occur, the way he rushes to the door and barks, except, of course, that the sound of joy in this particular bark would do nothing to give a burglar second thoughts. Hushing him does no good. He will risk the ire of his people, before he will abandon his cats.

The problem is that he barks at the door way too often. Yes, he does bark when it’s time to potty, the only sanctioned barking around here, but once he’s outside he becomes distracted and forgets to do his business. If he’s bored, he barks to go out. If a truck goes by on the highway, he barks. If he hears a noise, he barks. If someone walks by, he barks like crazy. So of course, when I have had enough and finally decide to ignore him, that’s the time he really has to go, and resorts to finding an isolated hallway to get the job done.

But then there is that precious, sweet, little face; and his persistently happy personality; and his joyful enthusiasm at seeing me walk in the door. No matter how many times I have scolded or punished the little thing; no matter if I have stepped on his paw or painfully worked out a snarl in his fur, he never holds a grudge. If my arms open for him, he is there immediately. Who could resist such wholehearted adoration?