Jake the dog has one mean stare.
|I crossed paths with my wife as she was leaving for work.
“Hey, good morning! I’m heading out early, so I didn’t have time to walk Jake this morning. Would you mind taking him?”
“Sure, I’ll get to it in a little bit, I want to enjoy my morning off.”
“Ok, make sure to do it, he gets obnoxious if you don’t.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.” I said reassuringly as I kissed her goodbye.
I rarely get a morning off, but when I do, it’s scheduled down the last second, full of TV watching, snacking and reading web comics upside down on my couch. Sorry buddy, I thought.
Thirty minutes into my morning show, it started. I would catch a glimpse of Jake standing just inside my periphery, sitting properly, expectantly, with his leash in his mouth.
I turned and angled myself away from him, so as not to catch his stare. He walked around the couch, and stood next to the door. I could hear his paws scratch the tile entryway. Ignore him, I thought, he’ll give up.
Turning up the volume didn’t help. I could feel his eyes on me. He may as well have been panting down the back of my neck. The more I attempted to focus, the more I was aware I wasn’t the only one with plans for today.
“Stop looking at me,” I commanded. He didn’t know that trick, and only cocked his head. “I can’t enjoy being lazy with a guilty conscience.”
I suffered. Any joy was instantly repelled with guilt, as Jake would inch closer until his head lay on the sofa’s armrest, leash in tow.
I surrendered. Jake lunged out in front, grasping at every new inch of sidewalk. His joy infected me like a virus. It was almost obnoxious.