The Mixed Pack

Jack the dog, like any dog, assumes that he lives in a pack. Like most domestic dogs his pack is led by the big dog that walks on its hind legs. Me. As in most packs, choosing his leader went pretty quickly for him, but sorting out the rest of the order is more complicated. For Jack, very complicated. His pack is split into two camps.

During the day he has his 'grandmother'. He has definately identified that she is in charge and minds her in all matters except following me around. Then there's his 'grandfather'. He's not quite sure what to make of that. Dad gets his meals on a cart that is low enough for Jack to nose around on, and he would probably risk snagging some food if I wasn't vigilant. In the dog pack that's a clear sign of position. So during the day things are pretty settled. Then there's the nights.

My girlfriend, in Jack's world, is the goddess known as she-who-gives-snackies. This elevates her completely above all pack status. When he thinks she has snackies he will follow her everywhere, and whenever she pauses he runs in front, faces her, and sits. This homage has been rewarded by manna from heaven in the past, and is well worth the try. But like most devout followers, in his awe he has a hard time grasping directions from the godhead.

The new word in Jack's vocabulary is 'bed'. I say bed, Jack goes to his bed and sits in it. He doesn't lay down, or stay very long, but he is right on target. With Laurie, he is engaged in continuing exploration. He sits near the bed but close enough to her that no stretching to deliver the snackie is required. His obvious concern for her convenience and the irresistible adoring look will sometimes serve to buffer not quite doing what he was told. Hmmmm. Are we his dog pack, or is Jack more human than I thought?