Why does my dog turn away from me

Why does my dog turn away from me

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Why does my dog turn away from me?

I have a labrador retriever that I've had for about a year now. He's a little sweetheart but when I come home he'll never come to me and seems to retreat to his bed. Why does he do that? I know it's not a reaction to me coming home because he just does it. What's going on?

The other day I came home and he'd been lying there for hours. I could tell that it was a "bad" day and I had made up my mind that he was in trouble. I knew that my husband was going to be working late that night and I was sure that he had been working and that there was something that needed to be done at work that would keep him there for a couple of hours. When he did come home he gave me a big lick on the lips for greeting me but when I sat down to eat he just retreated to his bed. He only wanted to be left alone. So, after that I tried to figure out if there was something wrong but I couldn't figure out what the cause was. But the next time he turned his head to the corner of the room and I walked into the kitchen I grabbed a dish towel and started to dry dishes and he never went to me. It was obvious that he was upset about something.

I went back to the bedroom and checked my purse which had been laying there as if I had been trying to get a hold of someone. I came back and sat down in the same spot and wted. And he came running and I could tell that he was trying to tell me that there was something wrong. So, I knew that whatever he needed to tell me had to be important to him and I started to try and figure out what that was.

I sat in the same spot and made sure that I was ready to listen when he needed to tell me something. After about five minutes of wting and thinking, he came up to me and put his hand on my head. It startled me because it was the first time he had touched me in about six weeks. I turned my head in to his hand and he gently stroked my hr. It felt wonderful and the tears started to form in my eyes. I couldn't control the emotions. It took all of my will power not to start crying.

He then started to rub my head as if he was trying to comfort me. And then he started to talk. His voice started to crack and break up as he spoke.

"You know what they call me? The black prince. They say that you are the white princess. What they are saying is that I am destined to kill you. You know what that means? They say I have been marked by the gods. I need to be taken to a place where I will be protected. I need to be placed where no white woman can lay her hand. I need to be hidden from the world. And they say that this place is hidden in the hills outside of town. And if I take you there they will protect you. My mother says that when a woman can feel her power, she will know when she is in love. She says that I will know when you are my princess."

"You are the black prince. That doesn't mean that you have to protect me."

He started laughing.

"You are my white princess."

I rolled my eyes. I was beyond exasperated.

"Yes, I am your white princess. The only reason why they say that you are the black prince is because they see all of my blackness as sin. Blackness is sin. As is any man that has black skin. Any man with black skin is an abomination. And the men of our town are just wting for me to have a child. They believe that they will have the white princess and the black prince. But you, my princess, are the most precious to me. You are the only person that has ever seen my true self. You are the only person that has ever touched my heart. You do not have to love me, and I will love you too. But I know in my heart that you are my princess. And that is what matters."

I wanted to say something. But I couldn't think of anything to say. I just listened to him as he spoke to me of our shared passion.

When he was finished speaking he kissed me. My hands found his lips. My fingers found the scar on his cheek. I traced the rough line as it led down his face. And then my lips met his.

### 8

I was lying in bed when a noise woke me.

The front door opened, then closed. The creaking of the hinges was the only sound I heard.

Was it safe for a white girl to sleep with a man who was black?

The question came to me when I remembered my mother's warning.

_I'm warning you, child. I am watching you. You do not understand who you're with. And you do not understand what kind of man he is._

It wasn't that I couldn't understand her warning. But if I knew what kind of man he was, I could stay away from him. My daddy told me to stay away from people of color. He told me that if I even looked at a black man I would be cursed. He told me that because I was black I was cursed.

I wanted to tell myself that I didn't care. That it didn't matter. I mean, I was with him. The things he was saying to me were not a secret. No one was supposed to know that. But I was still a white girl with a white daddy and a white mother. And I wasn't supposed to know a man of color because he was not supposed to know a white girl.

But now I was seeing him every day. It was like he was my boyfriend, and I was trying to know him without looking too closely. He did stuff for me that made me feel special, like taking me places that I had never been before. Like giving me that expensive car.

But I knew that if Mama caught me doing something that I was not supposed to be doing, she would not punish me. She would not say anything. She would even help me make something I shouldn't make. She wouldn't care what happened. She would say, _Well, that's just the kind of thing a white girl would do._

This was the kind of love I felt for James. And it was a kind of love I didn't want to give up. I didn't want to stop doing whatever James wanted me to do. I didn't want to stop making him proud of me. It made me feel like I wasn't just a white girl with a white father and a white mother. It made me feel like I was a white girl with a white father and a Black man.

I was beginning to understand the difference between white people and Black people, and what it meant to be a white girl with a Black man. Because we were a couple, and I was loving a Black man, I was part Black girl. But if I didn't marry him, I was still a white girl with a white father and a white mother.

I didn't want to be a white girl with a white father and a Black man. I wanted to be James's wife.

"We need to talk," he sd to me one night, after I'd been with him a few days.

"Okay," I sd, sitting up. "What's up?"

"Mama was getting upset. She told me to look out for you."

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