What’s He Thinking
It rained hard here a few days ago.
Nothing compared to the flooding and storm damage unfolding along parts of the East Coast.
As I watched it pound the windows, Matcha, my puppy, told me it was time for a walk.
When we came back inside, he was soaked and shivering. I wrapped him in warm blankets and started toweling him dry.
As I cared for him, I noticed he was staring at me, which he does all the time.
I remember when we first rescued him and brought him home.
He slept for about two days, and then began a fascination with staring at me.
Memorizing me. Predicting my every move.
I wonder what he’s thinking.
Whether he has the same fond affection for me that I have for him, or if he’s secretly cursing me under his breath.
But he always seems to look right into my eyes.
How does he know to do that?
Why not look at my ears, my arm, or my foot?
Whether it’s I want a walk, I’m hungry, or get the heck away from me, somehow he knows that if he looks right at me, I’ll get the message.
I spend so much of my life trying to notice what’s in front of me.
Matcha seems to have figured that part out already.
