One dog gone, only two here now, and only one I don't want to let go. Django, my big dog, and I went for a short walk earlier. Besides thinking of politics, I thought of how it is that I love Django so much when I am not that good with animals. From day one, I saw that he, like me, paid attention to people. The first time he tried, he realized I hate to be licked on the face. He will only do it if I ask him to, and those occasions are rare. Only a handful of times has he accidentally nipped me. I have only once raised my voice in reaction, and that was to the pain, not to him, because I have always seen the effort he has taken to not hurt me, or anyone else for that matter.

Also a gentleman, Django surprised my daughter by giving her the right of way to the kitchen. I explained that he always shows respect to me like that, and I love him for that and for being protective of me when we are out. He has never liked strange men or even teenage lads to come near me when we are walking or hiking. He always growls like a mad dog, lol, and then we continue quickly on our hike.

Ours is not a one way relationship. Because I see how much attention he pays me, I have tried to learn his likes and dislikes, his moods (usually calm, but sometimes aggravated), and I've even tried to read his thoughts - I know that is strange. I don't care. We don't talk much. Most of the time, we don't talk much but seem to read each other. Yes, I talk to him, but only if I have something to say. Even then, he will look at me sometimes like I am silly, but I don't mind. I stop talking, though, until I have something better to say.

He let's me think I'm in charge. This morning, I decided to jog for a lap, almost two - we both needed water quick. It's humid since the rain last night... Anyway, Django, who had walked at my pace, ran at my pace, but then he slowed us down. I followed his lead, a good thing. We ran twice as long as I thought I could, we could, and then we weren't so tired afterward. I'm taking him to a special place in just a few, because I want to be outdoors with him some more today.

In the last few months, I had stopped going out with him. I was, indeed, focusing a lot on other things, on trying to accomplish a goal. I forgot how good it felt just to get out and enjoy nature. My daughter used to go with me, but she is grown now. Has her own things to do. Django is a cool companion. I started bringing him along when my girl was still with me, but now it is just the two of us. I feel lucky I have him, especially now. After writing this, though, I wonder to myself whether Django thinks I am his dog, ha ha.

After breakfast this morning, I contemplated while washing the dishes. My husband interrupted my thoughts with this question, “Why do you think the dogs chew up their pillows like they do?”

“I don’t know,” I responded, “but it’s a shame they chew up their pillows because then they have to sit on the cold, hard floor.” Pause. “Of course, sometimes they will sit on the sofa, but only if the master lets them. And… the master can kick them off any time he wants. So the comfort does not truly belong to them. It is a temporary comfort. They should not tear through their pillows.”

By this time, I had decided that the reason the dogs (two labs and a chihuahua) chew their pillows is because they are unhappy. We have not spent enough time with them lately. However, my husband had also pondered their motivation. He noted that the smallest dog, who sometimes easily curls up beside our female lab, will oft times sit in the middle of a big cushion all by himself. My husband believes that the male lab chews the pillow so that the small dog will not take it. And he suggested that the male lab would rather be chased off of the sofa than to be on the floor all the time.

I am in full agreement with him. The solution is to keep the dogs happy so they do not ruin their own comfort. He could not disagree with my logic. Their need is not more cushiony places to sit, but more exercise, more things to do with their minds. We will take them out in a bit.

Still trying to assess the situation, I brought up what happened with our Django (male lab) yesterday morning. The other dogs, Bella and Buster, were eating his food. Stealing it, really. I can’t stand bullying, even in animals, and Django never fights back. I only saw the other two because Django came around the corner of the cabinet, head down, and looked at me with his sad, brown eyes. It broke my heart. I coaxed him into the kitchen – he knows that is off limits – and brushed him. It had been a while since I took the time to brush him. I enjoyed it, and I even sat, in my white robe, in the floor with him. Thinking about how lonely he felt made me cry. I also felt that way for a long time. My husband did, too. Two people living as husband and wife in the same home should not feel lonely. We don’t anymore.

After I brushed Django, I gave him some queso. A mozzarella stick. But I fed it to him in pieces. The last bite I held in my teeth – Django is the only dog I trust to not bite me. The other dogs had been watching the entire time. Buster was so jealous that he peed in the floor. My husband remarked that I had given Django ‘pity cheese.’ “No,” I told him, “It was not pity cheese because his food was stolen. I gave him food because someone else took his, and I gave him special food because he deserves to feel special.” My husband could not argue with my logic, but I did learn about the differences in how we each perceived the giving of cheese.