He is so used to watching the sky for activity and scavenging the earth for fallen things that when I flick my wrist he traces the arc from my hand to where the piece of cracker should land.
When there is no bit of cracker, he stares at me, bewildered at first, and then with steady, unmoving eyes. He will sit this way, this furry four-legged statue of mine, until I give in and hand him what he always knew he would find.
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