Edgar's inner wolf

 Edgar does not look much like a wolf.  Those short legs would not be much help in the life of a wilderness wolf.  He is rather a wimp when it comes to climbing up the very short easy ramp to the couch or having his ears cleaned.  He recognizes the bottle of ear flush.  When he spots it in my hand he makes tracks for any hiding place (in rather short supply in this wee apartment) and ends up behind the sofa or in the shower stall.  

Let him pick up the scent of a pussycat and his eyes become slanted and glow with evil intent.  Edgar's inner wolf begins to surface.

Now and then I give him a bone.  Usually it is a Pork Chomps variety.  I do not give him rawhide or bones of any kind from my meals.  Last night I gave him a 6 inch rolled pork chomp bone.  He tossed it around, licked it some, and then grasping his blanket in his teeth, he tugged his blanket over the bone to hide it.  Often he does this to invite me to his game of "find the bone".  He hides it.  I find it.  He does a bow and prancing dance wanting it back. (His inner Corgi).  I did not opt to play last night as my daughter was here.  Edgar left the bone where it lay when he went to his bed for the night.  This morning he came out, yawned, stretched, and before going to stand where his leash is kept, he uncovered the bone.  Jaws clamped firmly around that bone he trotted up and down the living room.  He looked so funny with that bone sticking out one side of his red/gray muzzle.  Like a guy smoking a huge stogie!  I tried to convince him not to take it outside with him.  Edgar had a purpose in mind.  He was not about to drop it, so we went outside with his "cigar" clamped in his teeth.  

He even managed to raise his leg on the sign post without letting go of his treasure.  Really getting hot out.  I could barely rest my bare arm against the metal of my wheelchair.  I gave the two quick tugs on the leash--the signal for come to me-- to guide Edgar back inside.

Edgar had one more thing he needed to do.  He went to the edge of the flower bed and began to dig.  Black mulch and dirt flew onto the cement pad of the porch.  He dug out a sizeable hole and carefully dropped his bone into it.  Then with his nose, he pushed all the sprayed material back over the bone.  He checked it several times before agreeing to return to the apartment.

Since his stroke, he has become more open.  He looks directly into my eyes and is obviously communicating.  He vocalizes--has so many different groans and squeeks.  I am beginning to learn his language.  Today he showed me another side of himself--another piece of his ancestry.  His inner wolf.  I wonder if he will remember where he buried that bone.