My dog Charley accompanied me to Florida again last month, where we met up with the in-laws and sister-in-law and her family, including my nephew, Noah, who has a nice personal relationship with the dog.
One evening I go to take Charley for a quick walk and Noah (now three and a half years old) motions to the leash. I hand Noah the reins and the three of us go outside.
As we approach the dog’s preferred area, I tell Noah, “Now, if you say ‘Charley, go pee!’ he’ll pee for us.”
Noah, on cue: “Charley, go pee!”
Charley does his little half-squat-half-leg-lift and begins to relieve himself. Noah, fascinated, slowly cocks his head and body down and sideways to watch the dog go.
Pooch finishes fast. Nephew looks up at me. “Charley go little pee.”
“Yeah, Noah, sometimes he only has to go a little.”
Noah, with pride and his arms outstretched: “I go BIG pee!”