Disappointing the Dog

He has a sad face. His eyes are sloped, his eyebrows are bushy. His snout is long and droopy.

All of this, despite that the fact I rescued his ass from certain death. I feed him twice a day, change his water, brush his hair and shovel his shit.

Yes, I'm talking about Inog

No, no, I'm talking about my dog, the sad-little-shusky. Well, not so little. He probably weighs 60 pounds. Big for a house dog, but mostly well behaved.

He pouts, though, plays up the natural sad face and googly eyes. He mopes. He whines. (Hmm, actually, he sounds more like Leah)

We walk him almost every day, and he has a huge yard to run in.

What's he do, though? He sits on the deck and peers in the window, wiping his wet nose on the glass... (OK, now he's back to sounding like Inog)

When he's out, he wants in. When he's in, he wants out. And when he's out, he wants to go for a walk.

I've already discussed the dog park. And today, I promised to go. "Dog Park." It's one of the few phrases he understands, or actually admits to understanding. And I said it. And he heard it.

I went so far as to call him out to the garage, put on the leash and open the door.

It was then, as the big creaky panel door rolled into the rafters that I did see the giant splashing drops of August rain pouring from the sky.

The dog did not care. He saw my car and darted for the back door. I jerked the leash and pulled him back inside. We were not going to the dog park today afterall.

He looked at me with innocent eagerness, pure desire and tail-wagging anticipation. But then, I did the unthinkable. I closed the garage door, and we never even got in my car!

He looked at me. Sad. Confused. Deflated. His tail stopped wagging. He hung his head.

He turned and walked back in without being told. He laid down in the corner and stayed there until much later this evening.

A real drama queen, to be sure. A whiny bitch, just like his mother. But still, I felt bad. It wouldn't have mattered if I'd never said anything. This time, though, he heard ne say "dog park" as clear as if I'd rang Pavlov's bell.

He'll get over it. We'll go to the dog park another time. Still though, I felt bad.