Breakfast With Milo

Milo is the perfect gentleman when he takes food from my hand. He does that so very very gently that you would think that I was made of cotton wool. We didn't have to teach him that. He somehow instinctively knew that I very much disliked the feel of his teeth of my bare skin and he made sure that I never had to experience it.

When he was little, he was so clumsy that he tripped over his own feet, and one of his favourite things was to run and jump into my lap. When he got bigger, that jump would knock all the wind out of me. He managed to figure out that his clumsy ways caused me discomfort and so he stopped doing that altogether. These days, he treats me very gently.

He is such a big dog with such a loud voice and such huge jaws that you wouldn't expect him to be able to take a piece of toast from the tips of your fingers without you even feeling his breath. But he can. Slowly and gently, he opens his powerful jaws just a millimeter and picks up the tip of the morsel I hold out for him. It's a bit like watching Conan the Barbarian doing embroidery.

With Toffee around, Milo was a different dog. He was rough with my hands and he seemed like he didn't care that I didn't like his teeth. Maybe he was in a hurry to wolf down the morsel before I took it away and gave it to Toffee? I dunno. But he's back to being Milo the Gentle again. We had a leisurely breakfast this morning on the patio with him sitting in his Good Boy Position. First a bite for me, then a bite for him. All was peace and calm. He was relaxed and I was relaxed.

I am so glad we rehomed Toffee. Like Fry said, much better to have ONE happy dog, than TWO unhappy ones.