Ghost is an independent soul. Always has been. When he was young he was part of a larger pack, and it wasn’t my pack so he rarely paid any attention to me even though I lived right there. And even then, going on ten years ago, he didn’t like being pushed around by Magnus and he was prone to sneak away in hopes of spending a weekend with the neighbors. I sometimes got the impression he didn’t like his family very much but it was really nothing personal, he was always perfectly content to come home again, he just wanted the option of going his own way left open.
He still does. Weekends when Landlady is here are always a little unsettled because I never know what Ghost is going to do. And like many – I’m tempted to say all – hermits, under the iconoclasm I’m a bit of a control freak. I don’t like it that Ghost is prone to charge off and not come back for days. But it’s either that or cage him, so at least at certain times I’ve learned to relax about it. Somewhat.
First thing in the morning, every single morning he’s lived with me, Ghost wants out. He doesn’t want anything else – no words, no cuddles, just out. I tell myself I’m too mature and realistic to be resentful of a dog’s attitude. For the most part, it’s true: He’s a medium-size dog with a medium-size bladder, after all. I don’t really want to spend a lot of time coddling dogs myself, first thing vertical. But still – a ‘good morning’ would be nice. Y’know?
But then most times, say 80% more or less, he’ll do something that redeems him a bit in my eyes. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes will pass. I’ll be fiddling with coffee or the fire or whatever when he comes whining at the door. I let him in, and he tilts and pants and grins and wants to be fussed over – just for a minute, no more. Then he wants right back out.
So he’s not above a proper good morning, after all. 🙂
