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We have this dog
A Woman's View
Judi Tabler color mug

She doesn’t think she is a dog. I know she doesn’t. 

Piper, our black Lab, is a character. Of course, she is quite smart. Most pets are. I have found that if I give her an inch, she takes a mile. Give her a taste, and she wants the entire enchilada. 

It is undeniable that she has her own personality, just as any pet does. But I continually wonder when she is going to start acting like a dog.  Her best friend, Ruby, another black Lab, comes over to play and Ruby doesn’t care a whit about all this affection. Ruby wants to run, to play, to go in the car. But she doesn’t beg for excessive petting. Not Piper. “Pet me, O Pet Me!” she begs.

I have figured it out. Piper is very, very needy. She wants to be petted, caressed, and obsessed over all the time. She does not ever, ever, get tired of it. “Love me, love me, love me,” she says to complete strangers. And she immediately flops on her back, spreads her paws and asks to have her tummy rubbed.

She was most likely the runt of the litter and was denied the choice spigots when her mother was feeding them. She felt deprived, left out. And she has not gotten over it. That’s my take.

Just once, I saw her get angry, so I think that if we were alarmed or obviously being pushed around, that she would rally. But so far, she is a pussycat.

In the mornings this past winter, when it was very cold, I let her come inside for the night. Oh, I know what you are thinking. “Well, why wouldn’t you let that poor dog in all the time? Where does she sleep? ... Mean Master!”

She has a very thick, comfy bed in the garage. And I will tell you why.

We adopted her because we needed a dog prowling our property at night, barking at the animal intruders in our yard. The armadillos especially have been a gigantic “dolor en el posterior.” They tear up our grass looking for grubs.

Have you looked at an armadillo lately? Up close? They are horrendous. They are a lost link between some prehistoric ratty, weasel thing and now. So far, she is doing what she was hired to do.

At this time of year, she is allowed in the house in the morning to greet us and get her treat. Once she is caressed, scratched, and mauled, she is totally satisfied. She lies on her rug and conks out. Later, she is happy to go outside again.

She barks at the back door asking to come in. If I get up in the night and turn the light on, she appears at the sliding door, staring at me, and jumping up and down. It’s an eerie feeling being aware of these eyes staring, and sure enough, they are! If it is not freezing cold, I ignore her and she eventually goes back to her bed.

Every morning, she comes to the front window and raps on the window glass with her paw for us to notice her when we are eating breakfast. I know I have told you this before, but it’s all a part of the socially starved Piper.  

We love her, but agree that she is a “piece of work.”

Write me and tell me about your pet?


Judi Tabler lives in Pawnee County and is a guest columnist for the Great Bend Tribune. She can be reached atjuditabler@gmail.com.