A Sweet Little Bird

By Fred

When Jam is deep in thought, the top of his head gets wrinkled and looks like this:

Jam eyes a bird.

We had lunch today on Casa Tina's patio in Dunedin, and a little bird flew up into the rafters. Jam sat still as a stone, watching the bird as it rustled its wings and whistled, and his behavior caught the attention of everyone on the patio.

"Look, he's watching the bird," someone said. "What a sweet, good dog," said someone else. But I could just see the top of his head and the many folds of scalp, meaning that his ears working at full capacity, using his doggy radar to get an exact location for the bird. And under that fur his brain was planning the things he would do to that little bird if only he could catch it.

Today was probably his best day ever at lunch. He ignored food on the floor. He posed and smiled. He carefully navigated through the diners on the way out, never looking twice at anyone's plate. And I can't be sure what he would have done to the bird.

Good boy, Jam.