Look into my eyes

I can’t help but wonder sometimes, what Waffle makes of the goings on around the house.

If, for example, Alexa is playing Harry Styles on a Saturday night and there is a general sing-song atmosphere, does Waffle consider the upright members of the pack to be in leave of their senses?

Or if, for another example, I’m roaring at the football on the telly, does he consider this some kind of overt communion with an unseen entity? Or does he merely consider me mentally addled?

Sometimes, as is often the case when it comes to tormenting little humans, I will pin one of them down and begin a tickling session. During these exercises, Waffle habitually launches himself into the melee and does his best to become involved.

This though, never ends well as either the tickler (me) or the ticklee (the little human) will inadvertently catch the intruding hound with a flailing appendage. Does he regard this sort of rough-housing as a form of play? Does he recognise play as a form of bonding? Does he consider himself a member of a pack who conveniently lives in a den with a roof and central heating?

Most of the time Waffle goes about his business, scratching and sniffing, as all the rough and tumble of a household plays out in the background. I sometimes watch him watching the little humans, as they play on the swings. And I always wonder what he’s thinking and if this thinking is in a negative or positive vein.

Is it something like…

“Look at those baldy fools on them big ropey things. They’re only making cods of themselves. You’d think they’d be happy enough to stretch out on the grass like me and scratch their butts. But no.”

Or is it more like…

“God I love them. I wish could play. I wish they would take me onto those swings and I could get a snuggle.”

Apparently, just as humans will stare into the eyes of someone they adore, so will a dog stare at their owners to express affection. Apparently too, mutual staring between a dog and its baldy owner releases a hormone in the hound called, ‘oxytocin,’ also known as the love hormone. This helps sustain the bond between said hound and said owner.

I know this because I was forced to Google, “Why is my ruddy dog staring at me all the ruddy time?”

Turns out, he quite likes me. Although, being a supremely affectionate little hound, he has the same staring tactics for everyone in the house.

Sometimes though, this constant craving can be a little… claustrophobic.

With Waffle following me all around the house, I have, for example, started closing the bathroom door when I’m going for a Jimmy Riddle. Previously (door open), I’ve found myself mid-toilet when the hairy head appears around the door like a peeping voyeur. For some reason (and I admit, this says more about me than it does about the Waff), I find this an overt intrusion of my privacy.

“Two minutes, dawg – jeez!” I tell him. And then the hairy head slinks away again.

Additionally, I have had to ensure that I eat my lunch at the table, when he and I are alone. Previously, I might have stuck the telly on and watched half an hour of Homes Under the Hammer or some other similarly intellectual show whilst eating my sammich. Not any more though. Waff’s tack of sitting just beyond reach and staring at me for the duration of the sandwich became a little… unnerving.

No matter the loud threats of extreme violence – flayings, beheadings, murder – the Waff will remain out of reach with this Children of the Corn stare.

“Why is my ruddy dog staring at me all the ruddy time?” I re-asked Dr Google, only to be informed with the same humbling explanation.

What is also humbling is Waffle’s ability to maintain devotion even in the face of those threats of extreme violence. That too makes me wonder sometimes, what a different dog would make of all the goings on around the house. Would an Alsatian or an Irish Red Setter have the same level of affection? Would they bound towards me every evening after work and throw themselves into my arms? Would they stare at the little humans and yearn to play on the swings? Who knows.

Honestly, I can’t imagine another dog even coming close to expressing as much affection as Waffle.