January 14, 2006

The Beer Drinkin' Dog

Our dog loves beer. I can’t tell if he likes Beck’s or Guinness better though I suspect he’s more of a quantity man than quality. The best chance for him to catch a swill is at the very end or beginning of a bottle since this is when I’m most likely to notice his presence. Yet he sits expectantly throughout, eyes unblinking, not missing a move I make. He’s never unaware of my presence. I sometimes suspect he knows me better than myself, and in his watching me more closely than I do my master his raptness carries with it the hint of reproachment.

A slow leak of saliva develops from the side his mouth but he is oblivious; he doesn’t wipe it with the cuff of his shirt or his paw-hand as a human might. He holds his ears at half-mast and I marvel he can do so seemingly indefinitely without fatigue. If there are muscles in those ears they are well trained. This is half-mast syndrome is known around our house as the “Flying Nun" look, for obvious reasons.

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