A man and his dog – Continuing tail

Ernie has now been with me since the end of last December.

At about fifteen months old he gets to roam safely, free of big-city traffic and tumult. With his amazing nose he has replaced chasing tailpipes with pasture-resident rabbits, cows, goats and field mice.

And I know he is happy because he tells me so.

On numerous occasions sitting outside with him regally in my lap he’ll serendipitously interrupt his concentration on all things dog, turn around and give me a big wet one, usually right on my nose.

I’ve always marveled at how nature gives each of us and our animal neighbors a unique personality. [See here at desktodirt where I chronicled the individuality of three spiders, and especially one I nicknamed the amazing Pig Pen. The articles are in the month of last October titled Spider and Alive. ]

Ernie is still revealing who he is but so far behaviors and situations have me shaking my head in wonderment. Here are a couple more examples:

When he wants his way he doesn’t fight or make a scene, he simply sits down calmly and stares at me. I often get that treatment when we return to the shack after extended walks outback: he plants himself firmly outside the door as if to say, “Not yet, let’s keep going.”

He does the same thing when extra hungry: he plops himself next to the large bag of dry food and gives me the eye-to-eye. This means, “I’m still hungry, another handful please.”

Since I grew up with dogs Ernie as a character brings back memories of others long ago and something my mother frequently said: “I wonder what they [dogs] are thinking?”

I find myself returning to that same question today.

But so far, with Ernie-speak, it isn’t unanswered for long.