Yesterday, Mr. Drake (AKA Drakers, good dog, Mr. Pit, the Tux, and the little boy) was a stone brat much of the day. Today, he tried so hard to be good it was heartbreaking.
I had an obligation that kept me at the computer for the whole morning, a morning when he was especially eager to get out and run. (It was cool and crisp, and he was full of energy.) Drake wanted to go out so bad…but I had to stay at the machine.
He'd come in the office and stare at me. Then he'd huff or sigh and leave.
He'd come back in and nudge me with his snout. Then he'd grab a bone and flop down like a little pit bull drama queen.
Then he'd whimper, sharp and low. Hrrhrrhrr. Hmmmhmmm.
Finally noon came and I could leave. I stood. Drake stood. I said, "Are you ready to go for a walk?" He started bounding around the office. Then I made the mistake of stepping back toward the computer to close a file and he about tore the office apart. He thought I was going back on my walkword.
But for the most part, he was sweet.
Greg
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