Daily Dose of Cute

"What can I do for you?"
This was pretty much the exact expression on Zelda's face the first time I laid eyes on her. She was sitting so still and stoic in her little cage, looking at me hopefully. "I'll do whatever you want to get out of this cage. What can I do for you?" It was that look that stopped me, that look that made me know in a single instant that she was my dog. It's not that I want a dog who will bring me my slippers; I just want a dog who's interested in having that conversation with me. I was, after all, wondering what I could do for her, too.

Most people think their dogs are smart—and most people are right. Dogs are, as a rule, pretty clever. Zelly is clever: She picks up tricks in about 10 minutes, and she's developed her own mode of letting us know she needs something by nudging us with her nose, then running backwards—"Follow me!" To the food dish! To the front door! To the HA HA FOOLED YOU I'M IN YOUR SEAT NOW!

But some dogs are more intuitive than others, and Zelly is revealing herself to be a very astute wee empath. Dudley can figure out what I'm going to do almost before I know I'm going to do it, but Zelda can figure out what I need almost before I realize I need it.

It's a beautiful, brisk fall day here today, and there was a chill in the air this morning when we got up. "I'm chillsy," I said to Iain, as he was getting ready to leave, not a complaint but an observation. The words had barely evaporated before Zelly was crawling in the space Iain had left behind him as he sat on the edge of the couch to put on his socks, so that she could snuggle up beside me. "I heard you were in need of a face-licking hot water bottle in a fur coat."

Why, yes. I was.