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smile. “That’s nice, Hank.” Then she turned her eyes back to the creek.
    â€œNice but not nice enough, huh? Okay, check this one out.” This time, I walked on my back legs AND moved my front paws. “What do you think now? Have you ever seen a better trick?”
    â€œThat’s a good one,” she said, but she hardly even looked at me.
    â€œOkay, this next one will turn your head, Beulah. Watch this. Before your very eyes, I will stand on my back legs, do a complete back flip, and land on my feet again. You ready?”
    Ah ha, at last I had her attention. I pushed up on my hind legs, went into a deep crouch, sprang upward with all my might, negotiated a very difficult backward flip maneuver in midair, and . . .
    BONK!
    . . . more or less landed on my head, you might say. Remember, it was a very difficult trick. Very few dogs could have pulled it off, or would have even attempted it.
    Did it hurt? You bet it did. For a moment there, I saw checkers and stars and red billygoats. As I staggered to my feet, I suddenly realized that (1) my neck was bent and (2) someone was laughing at my misfortune.
    With great difficulty, I turned my crooked neck and injured head toward the sound of the laughter. It appeared to be coming from my Collie Princess, who had thrust a paw over her mouth to hide her amusement, only the paw-covering-up deal hadn’t worked.
    Her laughter came spilling out. “Oh Hank, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but sometimes you do the most ridiculous things.”
    â€œYes, I’ve noticed, and they always seem to happen when you’re around.”
    â€œWell, maybe you’re trying too hard. Some­times it’s better just to relax and let things happen in their own time.”
    I thought about that. “So what you’re saying is that if I stop trying to impress you, you might be impressed? That doesn’t make sense, Beulah.”
    She smiled and shrugged. “But it happens that way. We can’t control the way we feel.”
    â€œWell, let me try this out on you. Suppose, just suppose for the sake of supposing, that I burst into song at this very moment, and the song happened to speak to this very issue. Would it win me points or lose me points?”
    She cast a quick glance toward the south, where her bird dog friend was beginning the hunt. “I can’t say, Hank. You’d just have to try it and see.”
    The Punt of Love
    How can I begin to tell you, my pet,
    The depths of my utter confusion.
    You tell me go slow, I tell me go fast,
    I think that I need a transfusion
    Of daring ideas or something that works,
    Explaining a lady dog’s mind.
    I tried all my tricks and fell on my head
    And now I’m just further behind.
    Now, let us be frank, go straight to the point,
    I’ve tried and I’ve tried to impress you.
    The harder I try, the harder I fall,
    It’s finally time to address you,
    To ask you, what gives? What’s going on here?
    And what in the heck you expect
    A feller to think or say or do,
    Just short of breaking his neck?
    I fervently wish, I fondly desire
    That someone would draw me a map
    That showed the terrain of a lady dog’s mind,
    Every highway and mountain and gap,
    And valleys and streams and swamps and plains.
    I think such a product would sell.
    But I’d probably need a compass or three
    And radar devices as well.
    So what can I say? We’re back to square one.
    The tide has come into the shore.
    I’ve squared the circle and circled the square.
    I’m just as confused as before.
    The answer, I fear, is simple and plain,
    There isn’t a tonic or stunt;
    There isn’t a map or even a clue.
    The only solution is . . . punt.
    Well, I belted out my song and waited to see what she would say. She had listened to the whole thing, and now I caught a glimpse of her smiling. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but smiling was probably better than some of the