Someday

Petting her fur all along her back
In both directions
Nudging her gently, occasionally
Winning some of her eye contact

Hey Pretty Petal
Someday
I want you to play
Okay?

***

For whatever reason, Petal is mute. Thankfully, she is not deaf.

Combined with her persistent fear of exposure (to anything away from her chair), her muteness is heartbreaking to witness.

If I carry Petal into the back yard, or into the larger part of our house, and close the door to her sunroom, she will immediately run to my left side and look up at me. This is her way of asking if I will walk her back to the door now, and let her in, instead of first subjecting her to pointless minutes of aimless wandering outside of her comfort zone.

During some of her longer excursions, Petal will start running, in circles around the living room furniture, or up and down the back lawn. Sometimes fast, sometimes really fast, but always with lots of stops. Little bursts, you might say. Anyone seeing her would believe she's having fun, and indeed she will seem to play a tiny bit, but she has a one-track mind, so whenever she stops running or playing for a second, she looks at us to check our reactions. To see whether or not her antics have earned her a trip back to her sunroom.

Dogs smile. They also look like they're smiling when in truth they are merely panting. The differences in expression between a smile and a pant might be subtle, but dog lovers see them. Mostly in the eyes.

When Petal starts running, and seems to be having fun, but continues to look toward her room, and toward us, begging silently, we have to consider a third possibility behind her grin: Is her mouth moving? Is she trying to make sound? Does she think we can hear her? Is she trying to bark? Cry? Scream? Can you tell? I’m just not sure.

Petal is unwilling to relax outside of her sunroom, but as soon as I give the signal, she runs to me and walks carefully at my side as I walk to the door and open it. Where did she learn how to do that? Then she settles quickly into her chair and gives me a different kind of smile, no grin necessary because she speaks with her eyes. It's a look of gratitude, but it's more than that; she wants me to know—she wants me to see—that this is the good chair, the good place, where she is as happy as she can be right now. She’s thanking me for letting her have it, even if we don’t let her have it all the time.