Emma deploys her psychic powers
Every night after I give Emma her dinner I bring her in and play with her with her Hideous Toy, then sit with her as she chews her rawhide bone. If she’s occupying herself I read, or write, or watch TV, or get online - as I’m doing now, in fact. Squeak almost always joins in - she can’t bear to have anything going on that she’s not part of. Right this moment, as I sit on the sofa writing this, Emma lies next to me with her head by my left leg and Squeak sits on the sofa arm to my right.
TJ usually turns up as well (no sign of him yet tonight) to just hang. He mostly keeps his distance from Emma; he appears to fear that if he consents to play with her, as she’s always importuning him to do, she might squash him accidentally. Which is not a particularly ill-grounded fear.
On the whole, it’s very pleasant Quality Time with the Family.
Last night after Emma finished her with her bone I went into the bedroom for a bit. When I emerged Emma was standing between the table at the end of the sofa that runs along the living room wall and the end of the other sofa that forms a sort of informal demarcation between living room and kitchen. She looked at me hopefully.
Usually that’s a sign she wants to go outside. But she didn’t. I checked to see if she wanted to play any more. She did not - which was good, since I was tired and needed to go to bed. Nor was she out of water.
Then she went over and sat on the floor toward the other end of the sofa and stared at me imploringly. I mean, really stared. I’ve never seen her stare so intently before.
She badly wanted me to do something. Indeed, it was apparent that she was trying to psychically will me into doing … something.
I’m open-minded on the question of psi, but nothing was coming through. Then I realized what she wanted.
Normally when she’s done she gets up on the sofa by the wall, goes and curls up at the end closer to the hallway and the dining room on the fleece I’ve draped over the back for her. But this time, in the middle of the sofa Squeak was curled up asleep in a depression atop the back cushion.
Emma loves Squeak. She’s also terrified of her. For her part Squeak (who’s always liked dogs) seems to love Emma as well. Indeed she seems convinced I got Emma for her as a pet. But the expression you always hurt the ones you love might’ve been written for Squeak. In particular her obvious affection for Emma Dog doesn’t slow her down from terrorizing and tyrannizing her. Not one little bit.
So I realized: Emma was afraid to try to get into her usual place on the couch with Squeak there.
I considered this for a moment. I was briefly concerned that if I made Squeak move it might erode her authority over Emma, which I don’t want.
Ha. It occurred to me tonight, as I drove home from a walk at the Nature Center with Emma, that nothing would make Squeak happier than a pretext to terrorize Emma into remembering her proper place in the Milán Pack. Which is the bottom.
So I gently picked Squeak up. She reacted with her usual graciousness, hissing furiously and clinging to the fleece with her foreclaws so it got dumped on the floor. I deposited her on the bed. She stalked to the other side and began to groom herself furiously. I went back to the living room.
Emma clambered right up onto the couch, curled up in her accustomed position, and subsided happily. All, clearly, was right with the world.