Freckles was Dad's dog. He tolerated the rest of us, and was polite to Mom, but he didn't try to diguise his being Dad's dog. He followed Dad around whenever he went outside, and he waited for Dad to come back out when he went in.
One time -- and Mom says it happened more than once, but I only got to watch once -- she gave Freckles a leftover waffle. Freckles made a polite show of appreciation with a slow tail wag. Mom patted him on the head, then went back inside. She watched out the kitchen window, and I did, too, standing on tiptoe. Freckles' tail wag slowed to nothing and he peered at the back door for a minute, then picked the waffle up in his teeth, strolled to the flower garden and dug a hole and buried it.
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