A does wonderfully as a nanny to The Duchess, though when she fell one day, his idea of “help” was lying down next her. “Nap-time!”
Typically, his help to me is absolute love and growling, snarling, barking, attack dog at others, particularly men.
On two occasions now, when I’ve become upset, reading news (not sad but PISSED), he jumped off his bed and looked around me (circling), then pressed against me.
He seems particularly sensitive to my emotional state, which is a bit surprising after Bobby (who was special needs) was honestly just a cuddle-toy. My dog prior to B was a big, strong type. He’d leave me deer carcasses at my parking space. He, too, was sensitive but couldn’t be bothered with my temper. It was if I got sad and wanted to cry (I’d repress that–now that I’m of a certain age, I’ve become a bit of a 2-tear-weeper), he would get all bug-eyed and run. I guess he figured if it was scary enough to rattle me, he was getting the fuck out of there! A seems to hide behind my skirts–or dog-hug.
Let’s call it a dog-hug.