11/6/11: Learning Little Things About Those We Love

To explore the mind of another is to walk on holy ground.

- Anon.


Emma, the rescued dog who has found a happy new life with my friends, always provides fodder for my pen.
(Click here for parts
one and two of her story.)

Every day her family learns something new about her. They’re intrigued by how Emma manages mistakes, or approaches novel situations. She, in turn, is discovering what they enjoy or dislike. Whatever they consider important becomes important to her, too.

The property’s boundaries were taught as soon as she moved in. Emma absorbed everything. She won’t stray onto someone else’s acreage, or approach the road. But last week when Les came outside, he noticed her sitting just slightly over that invisible line, staring down a squirrel taunting her from the other side. Spotting him, Emma suddenly realized where she was. Head down, tail slowly wagging, she moved toward him, her posture the picture of apology and guilt. Sorry, boss. I got carried away there, but I stopped in time, didn’t I? Sorry, sorry.

Les rebuked her firmly, and once again they reviewed that vital boundary. (Three beloved pets had died out there.) Emma accepted the scolding meekly. She’d just have to ignore ribbings from rodents.

Family members are learning more about her former, brutal life.
Sarah always sets out delightful seasonal decorations, which involve the packing and unpacking of large boxes. This is traumatic for Emma-dog, who vividly remembers her first family packing up and abandoning her to die. Was it happening again? Sarah tried to reassure her, but has learned that boxes and suitcases will never be easy for Emma to accept. For days after Halloween decorations were set out she looked haunted, and pressed so close to Les and Sarah they had trouble moving.

Her grasp of English is impressive. Sarah, discussing Halloween, saw the pleased reaction the words ‘giving out treats’ provoked. Emma had isolated those three from a complicated verbal stream during an animated three-person conversation. Now everyone spells when necessary, to avoid raised hopes.

Emma loves to sample interesting food, but only when invited. Instinctively well mannered, she’ll never beg at mealtimes. But afterward, any proffered morsel, especially meat, is either happily inspected and scarfed down, or politely refused, after careful taste tests.
The evaluation can be really funny to watch.

One pleasant October afternoon Les was outside enjoying a decent-sized chunk of Cheddar cheese. Emma lay some distance away, sunbathing, with one of her cherished tennis balls nestled between her paws. When he bit into the cheese, her nose twitched. She watched intently. Les noticed, and obligingly broke off a square to share.

Emma trotted over and took a deep, interested sniff of this new thing. Looking up at Les she pondered, cocked her head, then delicately accepted it, lips drawn well back, teeth showing. Thoughtfully she mouthed it, like a connoisseur of fine cuisine, and meditated, eyelids heavy.

Then, floof! She spit it out and pushed it around with her nose, thinking – thinking – before scooping it up again to repeat the test.
Hmmm.

Decision made. With a sigh, she made her way to a large leaf pile and pawed a little hole in the middle of it. Floof! The still-intact cheese was ejected into the damp nest, and carefully covered over with her nose.

She strolled back to Les, tail wagging and tongue darting in and out, as though to rid her taste buds of residue molecules. Thanks, boss, but – no thanks. No hard feelings, eh?

Amused, Les ruffled her thick coat, and they ambled inside, each, once again, a little wiser about the other.

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