Gibson is the name of my cousin’s English Springer Spaniel. Raised from a puppy with the very loving and energetic family that I’m currently living with, Gibson has been spoiled from day one. Sometimes I wonder if he thinks he’s part human.
This weekend the family went away for a few days and so I spent the time with Gibson. I call him Gibby. Since the dog has grown up with five family members, he doesn’t like to be alone. How do I know this? He whines, he mopes, he looks at me with his caramel colored eyes pleadingly, as if saying “I miss everyone. Where are they?” That’s how I know.
Gibson is a HUGE lover of attention. He practically demands it. He will jump up next to me and place his paw on my arm, actually grabbing my arm and moving it closer to him. The sad part about that? I acquiesce much too readily and end up petting him every time. It’s those eyes again. They plead and I can’t resist them. He knows he’s got me with THE LOOK.
Gibson wakes in the morning from his mighty slumber in someone’s bed (usually NOT mine) and runs downstairs to greet me in the morning. We have a routine now. I pet him and say “good morning,” and he wags his tail and soaks up the morning petting routine with glee. He’s always happy to see you, which makes one happy, too.
During the day and evening he constantly monitors who is in the house, what they are doing and from whom he can get his next pet or feeding or treat or walk. And we all offer those with kindness, because we love that darn dog! Yes, we are pathetic.
At night Gibson makes his rounds to make sure that everyone is in the house, safe, and settled down. This may seem a protective gesture on his part, but I think his motives are plain: he wants to be certain all of his caretakers are present in case he needs something.
This dog does not do well in a kennel situation. He doesn’t eat, etc. Without his caretakers, he is lost.
So this weekend, instead of sending Gibson to the doggy daycare, he stayed home with me.
The first day he kept running to the door at every sound, waiting for his family to return. I kept telling him “it’s just you and me, Gibby.” Yes, I talk to the dog. I also believe he understands a little. At least he knows my calming voice will sooth him. The male head of this household has told me on more than one occasion that I must let him know if the dog talks back to me. So far, he hasn’t.
Friday morning I mowed the lawn, and Gibby watched me from his perch on the couch in the living room. I saw him through the window.
Later I watched a movie on television and Gibby watched…me.
I walked to the bathroom and Gibby walked with me. He waited outside the bathroom for my return, then escorted me back to the couch.
I read a book and Gibson watched me.
I made and ate dinner, and Gibson watched me.
I gave Gibson his evening meal, he ate quickly, then proceeded to sit next to me, burp in my face, and place
both paws on my arms. That was my thanks for feeding him I guess. His version of a hug.
Finally it was time for bed, and it was late for Gibson. He’s used to an early to bed, late to rise kind of life.
I’ve not allowed the dog to sleep in my bed since I’ve been here, so this was a new situation for Gibson. At first he stayed on the floor next to the bed, but then he kept getting up and running upstairs to check out noises he heard. This was distracting to me.
So I called him up on to the bed, where he promptly jumped, looked around and then WHOOMP, flopped down pressing his backside against me. Great, just what I wanted: a dog’s ass in my face all night. After a few minutes of my pushing against him and talking to him, he finally curled himself up in a ball, and that’s what I settled for.
There was a big thunderstorm on Friday night and I could hear the loud and continuing roll of the thunder for about two hours. At first Gibson heard the noises as well, so I petted him and he sighed and fell asleep. Finally the thunder subsided but I continued to hear noises. That’s when I realized that Gibson snores. And he snores loudly!
We made it through the night and the next morning both Gibson and I slept late. I woke at 9:45 a.m. and he was still sleeping! I turned to stretch and then Gibson woke and stretched also. He put his paws on either side of my head and breathed. Lovely morning dog breath wafted onto my face like a yellow haze in a cartoon. Yikes! I needed coffee.
So while I made coffee and breakfast, Gibson watched me. I ate and he then he ate. I showered and he waited outside of the bathroom for me. Then he spent the rest of the day snoozing until I decided that he needed his exercise (and I needed mine) so I took him for a walk.
The rest of the weekend went along pretty much the same. And now Gibson waits for his family to return, which should be very soon now.
He’ll jump for joy when they get here, and all will be well in that dog’s life.
It’s the simple things that make us smile. Gibby smiles often.
Here’s pic of Gibson using his paw to get my attenntion which, of course, he did.
p.s.–I noticed, in typical Windy style, my right boob looks as if it’s drooping in this pic. It isn’t. I was leaning over to take the picture and that’s the result. Yeah, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it! LOL