It's Hard to be a Dog's God
In this case, it means what it really means. The past few days Goldy has been following me so closely he's literally on my heels. When I open the fridge door, he's in there, nosing it out. If I'm in my bed in the morning, and it's late and I haven't given him his breakfast and morning pills, he pokes me with his nose until I goddamn well GIVE it to him. If I'm late giving him his afternoon pills, same thing. He'll come up to me, stare, and poke me until I get the point and look at the time. If I'm in the bathroom, and I wasn't fast enough to close the door behind me, he comes in. He follows me when I say good night to Tall Boy in his bedroom. If I get up from the computer, just for a moment, he'll stand at the doorway and then follow me if I'm not coming back right away. If I'm on the couch reading a book, he lies down next to the couch. If my feet are on the floor, he'll warm them up. He's an awesome footwarmer. If I'm in the kitchen cooking or doing dishes, he's there in the middle of the floor, watching me (and hoping food will fall like manna from heaven).
When he's NOT following my every move, he's under the kitchen table against the wall mostly out of the way.
When he's NOT following my every move, he's under the kitchen table against the wall mostly out of the way.