ogs give up sometimes, as the shepherd did when he realized that I wasn't moving. Not knowing why I would return to the house that I had been absent from for so long unless to toss rocks and sticks for him, he returned his large head to a presumably comfortable position between his front paws. After taking a deep breath that inflated his whole body, he exhaled through wet nostrils, the sound unmistakable as a great, despondent sigh.

Of course, I felt guilty, thinking that had I somehow disappointed my faithful companion. Reaching down, I began rubbing the place he liked rubbed, a small spot on his questioning brow, between his big, brown eyes.

Dogs have such expressive eyes. Though sometimes a cautious and uncertain expression that appears to retain the memory of recrimination for some unspoken transgression, a dog's eyes usually reflect the joy and honest pleasure that comes from simply lying on the floor beside you.

The dog lifted his nose in the air, raised his head and encouraged my fingers. He trusted me and closed his eyes, enjoying the moment, knowing I would scratch him in just the way he liked, not too hard and with my voice a gentle drone in the background, reaffirming our invisible bond. If, through some lack of attention, my fingers strayed from the desired destination, I knew that the dog would simply move his head to correct this unintentional infraction. No nip or growl would mark my momentary lapse.

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