Every Move You Make

Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I’ll be watching you.

— The Police

I give my rolling swivel chair a sudden shove back from my desk, and Kemba, who’s been napping in his doggy bed of red-and-white ticking on the floor of my study, springs to attention, tail wagging.  Something’s up?  We’re going out, Beagle Man?  Cool!  I head downstairs, Kemba alongside me, panting with anticipation — staying so close I almost trip over him.  At the first landing, I make a right into my bedroom.  Oh, yeah.  Here he goes with the clothes.  This is gonna take a while.  Kemba makes himself comfortable on the beige carpet, head resting on paws, eyes trained on me.  Wherever I go in the room, whatever I put on — black Nike Pro Combat compression shorts, a white thermal top — those brown eyes follow me.  The head doesn’t move, just the eyes.  No barking.  No interfering.  Well, maybe a little face-licking while I attempt to lace my sneakers, until I push him away, saying, “That’s enough, shweety, we’re good.”  But for the most part, he waits patiently.  He knows we’re making progress.  Moving in the right direction.

We bounce down the next flight of stairs.  Same routine.  Kemba breathing hard, excited, his tawny body just inches from my knees.  I stop at the hall closet.  My shadow stops with me, assessing the situation.  I take a lightweight shell off its hanger, then pull down a pair of gloves.  Kemba’s brilliant brown eyes are trained on me like lasers.  His right ear twitches.  The moment of truth:  If he makes a move toward the mudroom and grabs a ball cap, then we’re going in the car for an adventure!  If he stays here at the closet and reaches up for a wool cap, then he’s going for a run by himself . . .

I pull down my running cap.  Instantaneously, Kemba grasps his fate.  He trudges resignedly to the couch in the playroom, and hops up.  This is where he’ll watch me take off — from the big bay window.  Naturally, I feel bad.  “Hey, Handsome,” I say.  He looks up at me, head tilted, all ears.  “Just going for a quick run.  The second I get back, I’ll throw to you.  I promise.”

And I absolutely will.  For a long time.  Because he deserves it.

LOOK FOR A NEW BEAGLE MAN POST EVERY THURSDAY. OR PRETTY CLOSE TO THURSDAY. COULD BE WEDNESDAY. OR FRIDAY. LET’S NOT GET TOO OBSESSIVE HERE. 🙂 . . . OH, AND BTW, YOU CAN ALSO FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK AND INSTAGRAM.