For the most part, Riley is a happy dog.
He runs around all the time. If he had the ability to play 24/7, he would.
He loves our company.
He loves when we’re around.
He loves to stay close to us and will even sleep at my feet as I’m at my desk writing.
As a matter of fact, that’s where he is right now.
But then, though, there are times when he, um, doesn’t love us so much.
We have no problem figuring this out, though, because Riley gives us a very, very clear sign. If he’s ticked off at us, he doesn’t do what other dogs do—like chewing something up (which we’re grateful for), or pooping in the house, or destroying my favorite shoes.
One might say that his message is a bit more, well, in your face.
What is this message from the dear fuzzy one?
Yes, when Riley decides to cop an attitude, he somehow removes all of the cushions from the couch and loveseat in our living room.
Every. Single. One.
While we’ve seen the results of his anger, none of us have every actually seen him in the act. We joke about what he must do to get all these cushions down. He must pull them off with enough force to get them completely off the furniture, but at the same time, there are no teeth marks or chew spots. So he’s not using a ton of force as he flings them about.
We would love to see the little stinker in action.
We have joked about setting up a “doggy cam.” The problem is that he doesn’t do this every time we leave the house. Or each time we’ve gone upstairs and left him downstairs. There’s something that just ticks him off, and he wants us to know.
The problem for dear Riley is that by the time we discover the “message,” whatever is bothering him has passed, and he’s looking at us with total joy and happiness. And when we sternly ask, “What did you do?!” he doesn’t run into his crate. He stands next to us, tail wagging. Almost proudly.
It’s like he’s saying, “Hey, look what I did—all by myself.” And has completely forgotten about the “being angry” part of it.
And that’s just fine by us.