Dog eyes...

Sammy didn't like the rambunctious young 'uns.  She held herself aloof that first day.

There are three sets of eyes drilling into me.  My dinner is done, but all three are hoping that there is a tidbit somewhere that I've hidden away.  Sorry dogs.  It's all done and gone.  I ate it all.  I know my father has led you to believe that tidbits exist.  But not tonight.  I was hungry.  And you didn't offer me anything from your dinner.  So I don't feel bad.

But I look into your eyes.  All so different.  Sammy stares at me with an intensity that is hard to ignore. Black eyes in a yellow face, not blinking.  She doesn't move at all. Everything is focused like a laser on my mouth.  Maybe there's a tidbit hidden there.  Meanwhile, drool begins to form a long string from her right jowl.  Uck.  It appears at the least possibility of food.  Paws shift on the couch next to me, a slight intake of breath that isn't regular and my attention is shifted to Jake.  He's horrified that "his food" might go to another canine.  His golden eyes hold a panic, an intense "Oh no!" look.  He's also upset that the newest dog on the block (Buster) keeps stealing borrowing his bobos (toys).  Jake is torn between watching for the potential tidbit and watching to make sure that Buster doesn't make a move towards the nearest bobo.  No drool from him... just a lunge into my lap to make sure that he still the favorite dog.  He conveniently manages to wipe his mouth across my chest and take up the whole couch so that Sammy can't climb up.  Multi-tasker Jake.  Yep.  And finally a huge sigh is heaved from across the table where Buster has concluded that there will be no more food.  His dark brown eyes are almost invisible in his black face.  He smiles at me, with his pink tongue shining out of his face and then flops down to nap.  He's too new to worry about food too much.  Wait until he meets my Dad.  That will change things.

Such different personalities in these dogs.  My worried, needy-of-constant-love dog.  My brother's laid-back, sneaky dog (she can slide out of a room and get in the garbage faster than any dog I know).  Buster, Terry's dog, is the young kid whose biggest concern is getting someone to throw a toy for him.  He can play catch for hours.  The other two older dogs appreciate one or two throws and then need a nap.  And now as this is written, Jake has gone outside to see what the neighbor dogs are up to. He's barking his opinion to the world.  Sammy has taken the spot next to me on the couch and keeps trying to lay her slobbery jowls across my keyboard. She oozes love but I know she just wants as much body contact as possible.  Buster keeps spitting bobos at me, hoping that I'll throw them.  He left when Sammy quietly growled.  The old lady keeps him in his place. He's now laying with his head out the dog door, unsure whether to go out or not. He wants to join Jake, but isn't really happy with the dog door.


I shall leave the dogs to their lives...and go get my daughter from work.

Jake and Buster about a half hour after meeting. This is before Buster started borrowing bobos.  They aren't so close now. :)