I’ve been hanging with Cooper a lot, lately. She comes up at the sound of the first click of dishes, first just her nose, then her front paws, and finally she’s sitting behind me, hoping something will drop.

She doesn’t like the vacuum cleaner, or the sound of the mixer. She doesn’t mind the heat of the open oven. She does not eaten fallen green beans. She sits, waiting, like a toddler in a diaper, as C observed.

She tumbles after Jeff when he gets home, diverting her attention from the kitchen for a moment to see if he’s brought anything worthy of her. From the bedroom, I can hear paws tapping across the wood.

She will lick your elbows, or your knees, or whatever is in front of her. Then she’ll stand, expectedly, waiting for you to pat her head. And, you will.

Then, she’ll go sit from her watch post on the back porch, next to the tomatoes, surveying the neighborhood, and keeping the peace.