I sit at the kitchen island, on a stool, typing away, lost in thought.
Then, it begins.
“Meew meew meew,” Indie whines a high-pitched cry that sounds exactly like a sad lost puppy from a cartoon. I call this Phase 1: Indie Cries
I reach down and pet him, even though I know this won’t solve the problem. If I move to a couch, where he can sit on my lap, he would be happy. But all my stuff is already at the kitchen counter, so I don’t, so he cries some more, only more loudly, and then he begins Phase 2: Groans and Grunts.
Phase 2 involves a lot of weird groaning noises. He sounds like how I imagine a bear cub sounds while it is eating. Or maybe how a badger might sound while digging. Or a pig. In any case, Indie also licks my hand and jumps on me, poking me in the legs with his pointy paws and forcing me to give him his attention.
I stop what I’m doing to pet him and snuggle him he is happy for a moment, but when I take my hand away, he goes right back to demanding my attention.
Phase 2 is never enough. Indie is never satisfied with just a few pats and a snuggle. He always wants more, so he kicks it into Phase 3: High Gear. He starts whining, crying, jumping, pulling out all the stops. He’s no longer just looking for attention. He wants to play. Sometimes, if I say, “Go get me a toy!” he runs off and brings back a toy. Other times, he runs off and forgets, and I find him curled up sleeping on the couch later. Sometimes “Go get a toy!” doesn’t work, and so he moves into his final stage, Phase 4: Go Outside.
“Come on, buddy, let’s go,” I say. I walk him to the back door and let him out into our fenced-in backyard. He immediately takes off, barking. He always takes off, barking. I sigh and go back to my work for a few minutes, and when Indie scratches at the back door I let him back in. He curls up at my feet, and I go back to work.
Until fifteen minutes later when he started to whine again.