All (Doggie) Eyes Were on Me

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Every move you make
Every step you take
I’ll be watching you.

— The Police

 

Every Breath You Take, the 1983 song by the Police, with Sting as lead singer and songwriter, came on the gym speakers the other day as we were warming up. Someone remarked, “I’ve always considered that a creepy stalking song.”

I hadn’t really thought about it, but she had a point. A little research indicates Sting wrote it after the painful breakup of his first marriage. He once said, “I think it’s a nasty little song, really rather evil. It’s about jealousy and surveillance and ownership.”

I guess I will stop humming that little ditty while driving. It is a catchy tune.

Nevertheless, the song popped back into my head the other night while I was watching television on the couch. Five sets of canine eyes watched my every move. Every time I got up to get a glass of wine, use the restroom, or pick up the bevy of dog toys scattered across the living room floor, those eyes watched me.

For three weeks, I was the sole guardian of five dogs, all sprawled around me as I watched the news to make myself feel even worse. My Beautiful Mystery Companion and daughter Abbie crossed the Big Pond to England for an extended, well-deserved vacation. I was in charge of our three dogs, two granddogs, and all the various outside critters here at Three Geese Farm.

The pups, in order of age and tenure in our family, are:

• Mollie the Maltese, who just turned 6. She is the undisputed queen of the herd, a 10-pound dog with a 100-pound bark. Despite having observed Pancho the Donkey in the pasture for nearly five years, she still barks at him as if she has never seen him. Nevertheless, she is as smart as can be and keeps wondering why we keep acquiring new critters she must rule.
• Gatsby, our Cavapoo therapy dog, is 4 years old. He was rescued from a puppy mill, where he spent the first nine months of his life in a cage. When we got him, Mollie had to teach him to run. He didn’t know how. After a year of training with Jamie, the best dog trainer in East Texas, he became a registered therapy dog who visits classrooms, the gym, and other places. When not wearing his therapy dog vest, Gatsby prefers to sleep on my BMC’swooden rocker in the sunroom. All day. He has the sweetest soul of any dog I have had.
• Teddy, one of the two granddogs, is a 2-year-old Havamalt. That is not something you order at the drugstore soda fountain, but a cross between a Havanese and a Maltese. He is very unique looking, highly sensitive, and extremely intelligent.
• Winston, age 1, is a full Havanese who resembles Chewbacca from Star Wars. He is a low-rider with an excellent vertical leap and is fearless about using it. He could probably make it in the NBA if he were seven feet taller. He is fond of chewing up TV remotes and did so on his last night here, as a sort of going-away present. When chastised, he rolls onto his back for a belly rub. How can you get angry at that?
• Our newest arrival is Daisy May, another rescue pup who is a Great Pyrenees/Golden Retriever mix, perhaps with a splash of Australian Shepherd, according to our vet. She is just four months old and towers over the other pups. She and Winston hit it off quickly, spending hours doing their best imitation of pro wrestling, complete with fake angry snarls and bites. She starts training soon. Daisy May has a way of gazing at you that makes you feel she loves you unreservedly. I think she does, actually. All of us.

For 20 days, my evenings were spent on the couch, surrounded by dogs, watching television. As noted, they watched my every move. When bedtime came, Daisy dutifully went into her crate next to my bed. The other four eventually hopped onto my bed, curled up, and made no sound. It’s a good thing I have a king-sized bed. I would get up at 5, let them all out, and collapse back into bed for another hour or so before getting up to fill an assembly line of dog dishes with breakfast.

That is how I started my summer vacation, stalked by dogs, watching every step I took. It was lovely.

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