A complicated love

     This morning at the park, Clara was determined to hold Wilbur's leash.  By herself, please!  Wilbur, thank goodness, was too tired from running back and forth across the field with an Irish terrier named Max to give her much trouble.  
     In the distance, Clara saw the slides and swings.  She pulled and pulled Wilbur towards them, but he just looked at her disinterestedly.  After a moment he saw a small puddle of water on the edge of the asphalt parking lot and made his way to it, Clara in tow (she was pretty sure she was leading him there, though).  He began to drink deeply from it.  Clara assessed his stance.  At home, when she pretended to be a dog, she crawled around on her hands and knees. Watching Wilbur drink from the puddle, it seemed like she realized, for the first time, and perhaps for only a brief instant, that Wilbur's back legs were straight.  
     She clumsily put her hands down and kept her back legs straight, too.  She looked like a bear cub.  She bent her head to drink from the puddle.
     "No!  No, no!  That's yucky water! Yucky!" I said.
     Grunting and muttering (it was hard work, getting to one's feet from that position), she righted herself, a puzzled smile on her face.  If Wilbur could drink from the puddle, why couldn't she?
     Nevermind, then, she seemed to say.  It was time for him to go to the slides and swings.  This time she didn't bother with the leash at all, but grabbed the fur on his rump and tugged.
     "Clara, we do not pull Wilbur's fur.  That's not nice."
     Wilbur turned his head and gave her a sorrowful look.  His and Clara's relationship is complex.  She often fiddles around with his snout and ears.  Her hugs are ferocious, unpredictable, and sometimes involve her lying on top of him.  She gives an ear-piercing screech of joy when she first sees him in the morning, the upper octaves of which must be at least close to the dog-whistle range.  She piles her toys on his back and tries to brush his teeth.  She tries to "dress" him in her jammies while he's napping (This involves draping her jammies over his head.  Wilbur already suffers from sleep apnea, so the extra layer of jammy must feel positively suffocating).  And yet, Wilbur can never totally renounce his love for her.  She feeds him handfuls of tuna-noodle casserole and pieces of hot dog at dinner.