What a good boy: Auggie

 

I'm grateful for the way our dog nudges me when he needs to go out, pushing his nose between my wrist and my keyboard. Sometimes that nudge is followed by a long stare - more earnest than mean. A look that says "I know you know what I'm saying here." It's good when two folks can say so much to each other without talking.

When we're out walking later at night, I'm usually not on my phone. That forces me to look around, to listen, too - oh, that tree is in full bloom now; look, they're adding a side porch; what a big collection of bikes in their driveway - my noticings accompanied the suburban sounds of nature (with the background buzz of cars zooming a few streets over). What a gift he gives me, pushing me outside, detached from tech.

My husband's been traveling so it's me and Auggie snuggled up at night. He's so bold, with his head right up on the pillow, pushing his cute bum into me like my kids used to do when they crawled in bed with us, ensuring as many touch points as possible, but only on their terms. In bed, the nudges mean "I invite you to pet me, to stroke my sweet fur" (I've always loved that phrase from Kevin Henkes' book Julius: The Baby of the World, but never fully knew what it meant, til Auggie).

The kids, well, my son especially, will send a text: Auggie content needed. That is an invitation to drop whatever I'm doing and try to capture the dog doing something adorable, which he will never do on cue. So it's usually a pup picture of a curled up dog on the couch, or a stretched out dog on the bed, or a dog looking out the window, wondering why everyone is clicking keys instead of going on an adventure. I take a few shots, usually adding a note about how this dog is ohsospoiled, ohsoloved. I truly didn't know how he'd nudge his way into my heart.