The first night that Alex was here, Mickey was very curious about him. He sat down to a plate of stroganoff and Mickey stayed right next to him, tail twitching. "You want a noodle?" Alex asked him.
"Alex, do not feed that dog from the table," I said. (But not very sternly, because I hadn't seen that boy in almost 18 months.) Just as Alex slipped him a noodle, I said, "And anyway, he doesn't care about the noodles; he wants the beef."
"Oh," said Alex, "you can have some beef!" Mickey received this cube of beef with great appreciation, and Alex ate the rest of his food himself.
I had forgotten about this brief conversation the next morning, but Mickey had not. When Alex came down the stairs, Mickey was right there to greet him. Mickey wags his tail to show curiosity; he wags his butt to show affection. As soon as he caught sight of Alex, his butt started wagging to beat the band.
"Huh," I thought to myself, "that's a pretty quick attachment."
As a mark of special favor, Mickey will stand right next to you and lean against your legs. As soon as Alex got to the bottom of the steps, Mickey gave him the lean treatment.
"Huh," I thought to myself, "he must see somehow what a great guy Alex is and how much we all love him."
Alex went over and sat on the couch, and Mickey snuggled right up next to him. You should know that Pete and Joe had been working tirelessly on teaching Mickey to shake, with slow and uncertain results. But Mickey looked Alex in the eye and offered him a paw. He did it again, and then again.
The penny dropped. "He's not experiencing a deep soul connection with you!" I exclaimed. "He's saying, 'Hey, Beef Boy, fetch me some more beef. Please.'"
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