Why the Dog is Staring


small dog ink sketchIt was a bright morning, but I had the curtains drawn. Lucy pawed at my bed sheets and when I didn’t respond she whimpered.

“Wake up, lazy!” she cried, “I’m hungry and want a walk!”

My eyes opened to a greyish snout touching my cheek. Her tailed wagged. I sat up, and she leaped off the bed. Her paws thumped against the carpet. She looked at me then the door as if to say let’s go already. When I flopped back to sleep, she grunted.

“Get up!” she barked.


Eventually, we made our way to the kitchen. With a push of a button, I brewed some coffee.  The Bailey’s Irish Cream in the fridge beckoned me. As I took a seat, I glanced at my phone: 8:30 am. It was late, and I had an interview today. Lucy’s eyes were on me again; she wanted my food.

“It’s just coffee,” I said to her.


Using my teeth, I uncorked the wine from last night. Droplets splattered onto the kitchen floor. As she licked up the red wine, I remembered the adage of how dogs resemble their owners. I wondered if it applied to behavior as well. I took a seat and ate dinner. Lucy’s paws touched the cushion of my seat. She didn’t cry, but those big eyes were desperate as though she’d gone all day unfed.

“Chubby puppy,” I said.

Later while washing up, I heard a noise, scratch, scratch, scratch. Once again, we locked eyes. Lucy wagged her tail, walk time. I often find that I am as much her human as she is my dog.