“Is that the WHITE bottle I see?”

It’s just a small white plastic vial. About 2 inches from tip to seat. But to Olive, it’s as big as a Kenmore refrigerator. It’s her eye drops and she’s not happy to see them approaching. How do I know this? Because both ears, in perfect unison, rise at their base and pull slightly away from her head. It is a perfect display of surprise and something close to revulsion at the same time. “OH NO, NOT THOSE AGAIN!” says Olive. “OH YES,” I reply. And then the dance begins. She rises from her fetal-like position on the master bed where she’s been napping like a Kardashian and makes a half-hearted attempt to hide on the bed. I reach out with one hand and grasp her collar. She tries to wiggle out of it. I now get her head in a gentle arm lock. She closes her eyes. All I see are taupe-colored eyelashes that look like they are sewn together. I spread the first eyelid apart. She leaves me an opening no wider than a needle. Two drops. “MY GOD OLIVE. WAS THAT SO BAD?” And then it starts all over again. It never ceases to amaze me just how much emotion some dogs are able to convey with just their ears. Human actors primarily use their face as a canvas for their emotions. Dogs use their ears and their tails in much the same way. Except what dogs convey is much more authentic. “HEY, HELEN MIRREN, GET OVER HERE. IT’S TIME FOR BREAKFAST. BE GLAD I’M NOT GIVING YOU A COLONIC.”