I really wish the Keelhauler was here, because I'm dog-sitting, and I don't understand what the dog wants.

I like the dog. I like dogs in general, but except for a few really obvious behaviors, I don't know what they're doing or what they want me to do.

The Keelhauler understands the language of the dog, and acts as my interpreter. For instance, once I was babysitting a little bichon frise'e who from the second she awoke til the second she went to bed, required me to toss her a miniature tennis ball. If I neglected to return the ball to her because I was engaged in another activity, say, sleeping, she would emit a single bark so piercing that my heart would stop. When I expressed my frustration over the barking to the Keelhauler, he gently explained that dogs do not have extensive vocabularies, and that it was the only way she could get my attention. "Just think of her as saying Hi," he said.

Part of the problem also is that I am apparently too indulgent with the dogs, and feel that I must accommodate their requests, no matter what. I feel a responsibility to indulge these animals, a habit I think stems from my years of babysitting, when if I hollered at the kids, they could rat me out to their parents, and I'd lose the weekend night gigs that allowed me to pretend I was too busy to be asked out on dates. The bichon's owner, I later learned, simply picks up the tennis ball, puts it in the freezer, and tells the dog to knock it off. This permissiveness on my part is yet another reason it is fortunate that I do not have children of my own.

So, today's dog (Dogly) is a little grey fuzzy model, breed unknown and difficult to determine. She is very sweet and affectionate, but has an unnerving staring habit, and also barks loudly at seemingly random intervals. The Keelhauler, in a clear attempt to assuage me about the barking, informed me that Dogly is "a GOOD dog. Very protective." I suppose she's protective, if that means "barking every time any living creature takes a step within 300 miles."

There is something unsettling about the Keelhauler's instruction--something that harkens back to an after school special on alcoholic parents, or something, where there's that one kid whose job it is to be the peacemaker. It really feels like he thinks I'm going to yell at the dog, or possible swat the dog--things I would not do, in case you're concerned--and it is his job to mollify me before a Situation develops. He "intervenes" in a gentle way that's totally unlike his normal decisive order-giving, and I get a distinct "Don't upset mom!" vibe that I find simultaneously touching and unnerving.

Dogly is a good dog, and I like her, and take her on walks, and let her sit on my lap when I'm typing, and all. I just wish I knew what she wanted, for example, in the following instances:

1. Dogly stares fixedly at me for fifteen minutes.
2. Dogly stands in close proximity, staring, tilting her head to one side.
3. Dogly stands in close proximity, staring, leaning slightly, holding up a front paw next to her body.

My solution to everything is to say, "Hi, Dogly!" in a happy voice, and see if it needs food. It's the same way I deal with the Keelhauler.

Star of the day. . .Laika