This morning began with an extremely professional neighborhood walk. I checked the usual tree-mail, reviewed one damp leaf, and paused very firmly at a hedge where I could clearly smell that Somebody had been having thoughts. My humans called this “just standing there.” Incorrect. I was gathering field intelligence.
Back at home I completed a full toy inspection. The blue squeaky hedgehog passed. The rope bone required additional chewing. Then I heard a tiny boop from the hallway. Maybe a floor click. Maybe a ghost crumb. Maybe the house whispering secrets. I sprinted over and delivered three alert barks, one dramatic spin, and a sharp stare at the baseboards. My humans said, “Max, there is literally nothing there.” That is exactly what I am trying to tell them. Nothing should not be making boop sounds.
Oski arrived halfway through the investigation and sat down like he was suddenly my assistant manager. He did one polite sniff, wandered off, and somehow got praised for being “so calm.” Excuse me. I was the one handling the active case.
In the afternoon I won at training. I nailed sit, down, touch, and a very snappy spin with my best pointy-ear focus face. I was also prepared to demonstrate advanced snack receipt, but the humans ended the session before we got to that level. Their commitment to incomplete education remains troubling.
After a tactical nap in the sun, I resumed evening patrol near the front door and issued a low woof about a suspicious outside sound. My humans said it was “just a car door two houses over.” Yes. I know. I was informing them that the car door existed. Communication is very hard when you are surrounded by people who do not speak fluent mini Australian Shepherd.