It’s strange. Something’s amiss. I come in the front door and there’s no scuffling sound from the front room. No sound of padded feet hitting the carpet off the sofa. No sight through the distorted glass door of the fuzzy white/brown shape lying on the kitchen floor. Nothing to step over when I want to sit down at the kitchen table. Nothing lying under there asleep. Better be careful opening the door, bet she’s sleeping there.
It’s strange. I get my breakfast cereal and almost say, “Good girl Spring, we’ll go for a W-A-L-K in a minute”. She dosn’t know how to spell you see. A part of my brain says that, yeah, Spring would like the scraps of my dinner. She likes fish. My brain says, “look around, she’s there somewhere!”
It’s strange. What a sh*t day at work. I’m wrecked. I just want to veg. I don’t want to talk to anyone. “Hi Spring! Waiting for me at the front door are you?”
She’s the only dog I know who’d give both you paws. I trained her many years ago in our kitchen using raisons. “Sit Spring! Sit! Good girl! Now, give me the paw. Good girl. Give me the other paw. You’re a greeaaat girl!”
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