There are times when I'm pretty certain that Moose was born to be a Frenchman. I could easily picture him leaning up against a lamp-post in a blue striped muscle shirt, an unlit cigarette hanging from one side of his mouth (unlit because hey, no opposable thumb, but still...) He's very much a lover man, happy to just snug up against you, with occasional snack breaks (also very French - he does love his food). But then...
Nights like tonight, something gets into him. He gets firmly into Teutonic Terrier-ist mode, patrolling the backyard (or the kitchen, if we ground him due to potential noise complaints from the neighbors.) He's not sure exactly what he's protecting, or who he is protecting it from, but he will not rest until he's sure the situation is firmly under control. You can hear him muttering "einz, zwei, drei, vier" under his breath as he makes each circuit, looking up to make sure I'm safe each time, then back to the rounds. Even once we go to bed, he'll still get up a couple of times during the night, just to check things out and make sure everything is in place.
As he gets older, he gets more and more French, but every now and then... I can see him looking for his tiny German helmet. I suppose it's genetics...
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