Day of Ash: Have a hat.

It has gotten a touch cold here, which means I wear a hat. Of course, I have to go all “hipster” and wear a felt fedora, feather and all.

Before I get further into that..

Remember a few posts ago, the one with Ash’s reflection in the car mirror? (http://www.aletterz.com/2015/12/24/day-of-ash-car-rides/)

In there I talk about how Ash doesn’t enjoy it as much if I am going over 45.

Yesterday, after work, we did our normal routine and then got in the car to go. What normally happens at that point, is Ash stares at me until I roll the windows down so he can stick his head out. When we get up to 45, he then pulls his head in and lays down. Which means I can roll the windows back up.

Instead, Ash stared at me, making it so I rolled the windows down. Yet, he didn’t put his head out the window. He looked at the window, then at me, and then at the gear shifter.

Now, yes, I could be doing some anthropomorphism, which I will admit I do often.

If it wasn’t for the fact he was literally “pointing” at it. Head lowered, nose inches away from it, a single paw lifted.

He was telling me, “Screw the windows, get home.”.

Away we went, windows up, Ash eventually snoring in the back seat.

Moment we hit the gravel road our home is on, his was up. Eyes wide, ears pointed up as far as they can go, and then came the whine.

Ash has a whine I call the “feedback whine”. As it sounds just like the whistle of a microphone in front of a PA speaker with high gain. It hurts.

I knew what was up, and he proved it. When we got home finally, and he rushed into the house, he didn’t even look at the other dogs. Straight to the area we have fenced off and blocked for the puppies.

Do not get me wrong, Ash did his job yesterday, perfectly.

I was too tired to write about it last night though, so here it is.

Onto the Hat.

We just went out for his morning break, and on our way back we got a soda. Which again, he braced so I could get it out of the machine, and then as I was straightening myself back up, he took out of my hand. I did not ask if he wanted it. That is now just HIS job.

Back at the cube, I unclip the leash, he puts his paws on my desk and gently sets the bottle down, still not getting it “right way up”. It’s a start.

Then I take the leash off myself, and on the floor my hat goes.

Ash is not one for picking up new things to him. The papers for the security guard was a rare moment, and yes he got them today as well.

Yet, next thing I knew, there was Ash, pushing the hat into my hand.

It’s the little moments that make me proud of him.

Even if puppies rate higher in his world than I do.

-Z