Don’t tell me that dogs don’t have the ability to connive. This morning began with a paw inching its way toward my face until finally I felt a rough pad dragging across my face. Startled, I snapped at him and pushed him away. He got the not so subtle hint and jumped off of the bed. Thinking I had resolved the situation, I buried my head in the pillow and dozed off.
There are different types of sleep: some nothing more than putting in your time with your eyes closed, but when you wake, you’re still tired; others, you’re so at ease, every muscle is relaxed. I felt relaxed and had visions of standing in the Jordan, casting my 5 wt. bamboo to cooperating brookies jumping at the chance to take one of my hopper patterns.
Without opening my eyes, I realized there was this weight inching its way toward my head. Then, that rough pad of a paw again touched my face. This time I just laid there to see what would happen. Three times the paw touched my face; each time the touch was more deliberate than before. Finally, getting frustrated, Seamus nudged me with his nose in rapid succession until I stirred. He knew he had me.
Things developed from there: First came the whining for bacon; then a complete breakdown of decorum as I packed my gear bag and brought out the rod tubes from the closet. It was all he could do to keep from yelping as I apparently didn’t move fast enough for him.
The first trip to load the Jeep had him dashing out of the front door. As soon as I opened the hatch, he jumped in, sat there staring at my every move. It took several more trips to the car, but he didn’t move. There was no way he was coming out of the car. I had finally understood what he was telling me and he wasn’t about to let me backslide.