Love at First Bark

After years of having a dog, you know him. 

You know the meaning of his snuffs and grunts and barks. 

Every twitch of the ears is a question or a statement, 

every wag of the tail is an exclamation.

 Robert McCammon

John and Maizey became fast friends. Like the early days of any relationship, they were in separable. When John left the house, Maizey rode shotgun. When John went to work, Maizey lay in the shade while John climbed ladders and patched roofs. They went to the beach where Maizey dove into big waves, chased sand pipers, dug up fiddler crabs and, as most dogs love to do, rolled in stinky things.

With so much togetherness, Maizey and her master soon developed a language of their own. It didn’t take long for them to resemble an old married couple, where one finishes the other’s sentences. John is convinced Maizey knows English.  The conversations are peppered with 4 letter words on the part of the human, the twitch of a tail or refusal to budge on the part of the dog.  

“Wanna go in the car? John asks. Maizey stands at the door and barks her fool head off.

“Big Wave?" (Let's go to the beach.) Maizey stands at the door and barks her fool head off. 

"Squirrel!" (Let's go outside). Maizey stands at the door and barks her fool head off.

“Walka walka?” (Let's go for a walk) Maizey stands at the door and barks her fool head off.

John claims to know the nuances of certain barks. They all sound a like to me. Try as I may, when Maizey barks at me which causes my ear drums to rattle, all I hear is "feed me." Dinner. Cheese. Milk Bones. I try any/everything I can think of to quiet her.  John walks in and she stops barking. It's clear the dog thinks Grammy is an easy mark. 

I think she's probably right.