When Morris died and a few days later I brought home Charlie, my husband was furious with me for about 5 minutes. He ranted, he raved and he kept on and on until I stuck Charlie in his hands.
"He's too little, his legs are bowed, his legs are short...what good is he?"
Against his better judgement, this tiny dog started to worm his way into the gruff old fart's heart. Xena my crazy terrier was never a fan of Rich's and that went both ways. Morris was ambivalent about Rich but tolerated Rich's presence and listened to him most of the time.
Charlie?
Well, I think the above photo says it pretty good.
Charlie waits for Rich to awaken most mornings. He rarely gets up until Rich gets up.
In the evening after supper, Charlie goes and finds a bone or his ball to bring to Rich to play fetch. When Rich reaches for it, Charlie turns his back on it as if to play Keep Away.
He laughs at Charlie and calls him a stinker. Charlie let's me take the bone/ball and give it to Rich. The old fart tosses it, Charlie retrieves it. After several fetches Charlie marches to the couch and does this grunt/groan thing.
It signals Rich to come in and sit with him. Of course! It is time to sit and watch something together. They both wait for me to finish the dishes.
At night before bed, Charlie has to walk into the bedroom to watch Rich get ready. Then he waits until I motion towards the couch where he lets me tuck him 'in' for the night.
It is down to a routine. If I forget to tuck him in, he walks into the bedroom and grunts.
I had no idea Charlie could control our life like this.
