Staredown

We had two bichons: an alpha and a sweetie pie. Tiki, the "A," loved the world because he had ordered it to love him. He obeyed, with one stipulation: first, he let you know that he was obeying only because he had chosen to.


We did a lot of trailering and tried to find sites where we could let the dogs run free for awhile. There are some. One is set up in a very large disc shape with the sites arranged around the circumference. The fine center lawn has trees. It’s all secluded, beautiful, and quiet.


Arriving there one late afternoon, Muriel let Tiki, the alpha out. He promptly sprinted the considerable distance to the center, nosing around and counting squirrels.  After a few minutes, Muriel called to him, at which he looked up, then very deliberately walked to the nearest tree. He lifted his leg while staring at Muriel.

"Oh, that game," Muriel said. "Let‘s just see how long he can do that."

Tiki, leg up, stared at Muriel. Muriel, in the trailer doorway, stared back. For nearly three full minutes the staring continued. Then, slowly, Tiki’s leg sagged a little, then a bit more. When he had four feet back on the ground, with his tail dragging, he made his way back to the trailer. Entering it, he stalked over to his crate, slapped his chin on the deck, and pouted. At least, he was very forgiving. At our dinner, he snuggled against Muriel.