Steve Sees All

A story about chin placement.

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Hi there. Thanks for stopping by. If you are new here then let me introduce you to Peggy and Steve. You’ve now met the two most important dogs I know. Today we’ll talk about Steve. Let’s all take a deep breath and direct our focus on a dog for a moment. But first, an arresting puppy photo.

This is, ultimately, a story about chin placement.

Steve is a natural voyeur. Even as a puppy, he could sustain his gaze for long durations on a single object. Once I caught him — barely bigger than a loaf of bread — splayed out like a frog and fighting an infant’s sleep inertia to observe a fly for a solid 20 minutes.

Then, Steve discovered windows.

As soon as his tiny frame could support him, Steve propped himself up on our couch, which rests against a nearly floor to ceiling window. The window overlooks the backyard and, because our house is built into a hill, it has a nice birds-eye view of the backyard and some of the dramatic Montana landscape. It was love at first sight.

Every day, Steve makes his rounds around the house. He checks the levels on the water bowl, does all the cursory nook and cranny sniffs, and, once all is in order, bounds onto the couch and assumes his position. His hind legs sit on the cushion and his front paws rest on the top of the couch. His nose is jammed against the glass and, if conditions are right, the smear glistens in the morning sun and a gentle fog halo appears and fades with each exhale. Steve’s watch has begun.

At first, Steve is shot upright. His head is on a swivel as he acclimates to the scene. If it’s windy, the shimmer of the leaves on the Aspen in the corner of the yard catch his interest. Eyes already to the sky, it’s usually onto a squirrel or the swoop of the occasional magpie or the nest of Robins that appear each spring. The true draw, though — the reason for each stakeout — are the deer. You always know Steve’s seen a deer if he looks a bit like he’s been struck by lightning, but in a good way. His mouth is gently agape and his eyes are wide. The nose fog halo pulses with quickened breath.

But, like any true hobbyist, Steve knows that it’s more about the process than the payoff. Steve can watch anything and often watches nothing at all. In the winters, his eyes unfocus as he gazes through a gentle snowfall.

On these days his posture softens and his head lowers over time until, finally, it rests on the top of the couch cushion. When you observe this from behind he looks a bit like a drifter who passed out on the bar at a tavern. But, you know, in an adorable way.

Like any true hobbyist, Steve takes his activity with him wherever he goes. But rarely does he have the same view. In many cases, he has no view at all. Still, he settles in. Away from his window, anything and everything becomes an observation deck. This includes but is not limited to: coffee tables, chair legs, human shoulders, and even a suspicious Peggy. He’ll perch his chin on them all.

This is, ultimately, a story about chin placement.

There are no deer but it is no matter. His eyes soften into a meditative stare. A few minutes later, those same eyelids go heavy. Sleep wins out.

Steve’s watch has ended.

Your faithful correspondent,

Charlie

This has been Some Dogs, a blog about dogs. Click this link to subscribe.