A few little thumps from a tired tail and I melt — again
Do I love our little wiry terrier mix Bella? Let me count the ways. My favourite thing she does? A bit of context first. She has the run of the house and can be found on any bed, or in any number of cosy spots, or hot spots on a sunny day, but she always returns for a spell in her basket, which is on a low orange corduroy armchair in the dining room end of the long kitchen. It’s also where she sleeps at night.
Every morning after we’ve come back from our morning beach walk, her and I, and the food and water have been taken care of, she takes to the basket. Flaked out she is, her snout pointed in my direction as I make my breakfast. Only her eyes move, following my path around the kitchen area. Then, the clincher: every time I look in her direction, still totally still, she wags her tail at me. Just a couple of minimum effort thumps off the end of the basket.
Sometimes I am not looking at her and my mind is elsewhere as I pass the basket and I just hear those little thumps. Kills me every time.