As I, too, find those things annoying, I fully agree. Although I confess that I talk to my dogs and generate responses in voices I have designated for each, I am not comfortable with treating children or dogs as cute and adorable playthings. The Husky is a wise and noble confidante and companion; she is not a sweetie or a fur-baby. The Shay is a joyful and exuberant being, rich in affection; I would never dress her in a clown hat to celebrate that fact.

My girls are friendly, but please do not insist that your friendly dog push its face in theirs. They will demonstrate hostility toward your friendly dog, with expressions that might disturb the sensitive. Please listen and let me finish as I advise you, “Don’t put your face down to her –”. Please do not interrupt and say, “Awww, I’m used to dogs,” and then turn to me with accusing and streaming eyes as I finish, “because, as I was trying to say, the Husky loves to bump noses.” Please do not swing your palm down to pat the Shay on top of the head; she will click her teeth to advise you that she dislikes that. If she banged a paw on top of your head, perhaps you would not like it either.
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They are my canine companions, the keepers of my secrets. The Husky lies behind me, watching as I write. The Shay studies the front window, and at precisely 4:30 pm local time, she will come up and tug my sleeve, because it is walk time. They are editorial staff and recreational staff.
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They scan the sky and take note of all birds, drifting leaves, jets, and moving clouds, and at night, they study the moon. They are vigilant.

​Like Musko, they understand human nature. They have made many of their conclusions based on experience. If they and Musko joined forces to write an advice column, I am sure that it would include these, among others:

1. Do not engage in prolonged scrutiny of your human. Particularly at mealtime, this will foster feelings of anxiety. It will not enhance sharing of food. Instead, lie quietly at their feet, sighing softly so they remember you are there. Feelings of guilt will result, prompting a desire to share.
2. Do not press your face to the human’s face while they are fumbling with the alarm clock. They do not read this as support and love, but as an intrusion, triggering an aggressive verbal response.
3. Do not slurp your tongue on the palm of their hand. They will make mewling sounds of distress. A light lick to the wrist, or below the ear, engenders a more positive response.
4. Do not crowd your face between them and the phone. Again, this will engender an aggressive response. You can still hear most of the conversation if you lie quietly by their side.
5. Pace near the treat cabinet at designated times. This serves as a graceful reminder. Do not vocalize at this time, or feelings of hostility may be displayed, particularly if they are tapping on their cell phone or device like that.
6. Sniff the wonderful tracks you find while pacing slowly. Some humans cannot stand still for long, and they become restless. One of you may tug on the leash, but not both of you at once. The human might stumble, and verbalizations will be painful to your ears. Also, the older human might be injured, and will withdraw to their lair.
7. Learn to read the human’s needs. If you hear them crying in the night, lie near, and let your love pulse to them. Listen as they share their fears. Soft vocalizations at this time will comfort them.

Dogs have great patience and an infinite capacity for forgiveness and love. Celebrate that. Read them, as they read you. Grow and live together in joy.

​Once upon a time, I lived on a shallow, rocky lake, in a cabin accessed only by canoe. I saw beautiful sunrises, and decided to write a book about those. Sunrises do not typically fill a novel, but I did grow up in a rambling old farmhouse. I would write about a woman who lived in a haunted farmhouse! It turned out to be the story of two women, both haunted, both with a sentimental relationship with an old farm, both struggling to find their way in the world.