|"Does this look like the face|
of a vacspazztic to you?"
On the other hand, it also means that we can read each other like a book. When I see his tail hit a particular set, I know I have about seven seconds to redirect him before mayhem ensues and, likewise, when he sees me begin a pattern of activity, he knows what's coming next.
In some ways our connectedness works well --- I can keep him out of trouble before he has a chance to make a little, and he can depend on me to behave pretty much the same way every time I do something, which gives him the reassurance that all is well in Doodlebug-land.
Then there's vacuuming.
I have no idea what goes through his mind as I begin picking up his toys to toss in the toy basket (and yes, apparently the only time I'm inclined to actually pick up his toys is when I'm about to vacuum), but based on the distinct change in the set of his body, I'm guessing it's something along the lines of, "OHMYDOGOHMYDOGOHMYDOG!
The dude simply loses all sense of reason when it comes to the vacuum cleaner. He's not afraid of it (though he does have a distinct weirdness about cords, vacuum cords included), he doesn't really want to kill it and he doesn't want to touch it, but he loves nutting up about it, tearing up and down the hall, flying from room to room trying to stay one step ahead of it, but repeatedly needing to come back to where I am to see if I really am going to push the green monster to every room.
Like many other aspects of the Doodle's personality, this is the first time I've had a dog so thoroughly enchanted with flipping out over the vacuum cleaner, so much so that I think I need a new a new word to properly assign to it: vacspazztic.
Anyone else belong in this club? Let me know --- if there's enough of us, maybe we'll make membership cards.