Banjo pounced back and forth on top of the messy, unmade bed of which I sat. His black and brown paws contrasted with the lightly colored down blanket that covered me. I could feel him wind up his powerful legs before each and every jump. Luckily, my comforter served me protection from Banjo’s sharp, untrimmed nails.

In an attempt at a more direct way to retrieve the object I was hiding, he began wiggling his white and pink spotted snout underneath the covers. I lightly shoved his wet nose. In protest, he let out several ear-ringing screeches--a familiar sound I heard too often. He frowned then glared at me. I made contact with his puppy dog glazed eyes. Another short squeal slipped out. I could sense the eagerness within his small whines, begging me to ease up and uncover his long desired treat. Pressed by the denial of him crawling under the blanket, he switched to a different method to obtain the luxurious, green dental bone. He slowly walked to the edge of my bed, turned around in circles a few times, then laid down. 

The pressure of his dense, 68 pound body rested uncomfortably on my feet. I wiggled my toes in hope he would move. He appeared unphased, yawning as if struck by boredom. Of all the dogs in the pound, I managed to pick out the most vocal, stubborn, and complex-minded one. 

Banjo’s loss of interest encouraged me to partially reveal the treat. His ears rose up; I had regained his attention. He must have forgotten that it was his favorite treat because he licked his lips not long after. I watched as he raised his front legs up then partially lifted his bottom so it was no longer touching the bed. With coiled legs and intentions to soon be consuming his doggy breath mint,  he leaped to where I held the treat. Led by poor instinct, I panicked and covered myself entirely with the blanket. I gripped the bone tightly; it was sticky in my hand. Through the darkness I still felt as if I was watching him. My mind could vividly envision Banjo’s notoriously impatient ego commanding his every move. I could hear the chime of his dog tags clinking together as he searched persistently. It was as if he knew I was under the covers, but he didn’t know how to get me out. Each brisk prance was accompanied by a rough nibble and, of course, an obnoxiously vibrant cry. I couldn’t help but laugh at the intensity and determination he had. Pure joy raced through me. I finally surrendered and handed over what he deserved. His previously wagging tail picked up speed as he realised what was now his.