Treats!

He was gone for a week and a day. He was bigger when he came back; older and a bit fatter; they call Corgis coffee table dogs. He was still adorable. But more importantly, he remembered me and I had him back.

I cried and held him for a long time. He fell asleep on his back with his legs flat down. He was so relaxed; happy to be home.

A few days later, he woke up after a kitchen nap while I was making dinner. It was something with chicken. He trotted over to me and sat down and whimpered.

"No, Phinny. You can't have raw chicken."

He whined louder and pawed the ground with his stumpy legs.

"No, Phin."

He snorted aggressively this time; his whining became even more intense. If he'd been a child, I wouldn't have given in. I don't think bad behavior should be rewarded with kids. It's how you get narcissists; bad for society. Dogs, however, have almost no impact on anything outside of your household. Provided they're leashed that is. Besides, I found Phin's tantrums kind of cute. But I guess I thought that of everything he did.

"Fine, you little turd!" I put down what I was doing and scrubbed my hands. I turned around and dug into the meat drawer of the refrigerator to find the package of turkey meat.

I pulled out a few slices and dangled it above his head. He was standing on all four of his feet –“dancing”- in anticipation. Suddenly, he plopped down again, and stared intently at the poultry and then lifted his stubby little paws, put them together and started to beg. I had never taught him to do that, or had seen him attempt it before his disappearance, but it became his signature treat-getting move.