Pastime

This is his new pastime. He sits on the couch and watches the waves, the dogs on the beach, people trying to park, un-manned mail carts rocking in the wind. (That one made him bark so hard he threw himself backward.) Sometimes I lay on the couch and watch him: his ears going up and down in concentration. I look at the little flip they have at the bottom. His attention is in earnest.

We are bonding. He watches everything I do now, with more understanding than he had before. He listens. We are creating our own version of communication.

And he's reached a new plateau. He sleeps in the bedroom now, but not in the crate. We close the door so he can't roam, but he has free rein of the bedroom. He tries his hardest to fit on that little bed, but only half of him does. We have another on the way. Eventually he moves to my side of the bed and sleeps on the floor under the opened window, where it's cooler. Somehow, I always know when he's there.

Soon, the crate will be history and he'll have free rein of the house. And I'm sure he'll still spend alot of his time dreaming, out of the window.