'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

Mistaken and Not-So-Mistaken Ideas, No. 47

I don't feed Bob, the office dog. I want him to love me for me. Ridiculously particular, yes, but also not so.

I mean, I pet him & pick him up & scritch his ears & run my fingers under his collar, which is what I've always thought I'd like somebody with fingers to do for me if I were a dog. Thus I make his time with me generally pleasant, and even try to do my own special thing for him, cuzza which he might be glad to see me. That's not so unlike his knowing me as a snack source. Just less efficient. If you look at it one way.

Still, seems better when he's happy to see me than I think it would if I could be expected to slip him one of his favorites, like a green bean or a piece of banana.

Maybe I should mention that Bob's a Shih Tzu, and from a traumatic childhood, so not like other dogs, who usually have that affability and broad enthusiasm for all kinds of attention. If it ain't food, Bob is, let's say, subtle. In-bred, or wound-related? I dunno. Both, neither, one or t'other---does it matter?

Tonight I have a nasty raw throat & a bit of fever. Doing what I can to fight it off, but sense that I'm losing. I'd say it's not the best timing for me to fall ill, but when is it good timing for such a thing? At least I had today fairly obligation-free to rest up and push fluids. Zinc may not do it this time, though.

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