Today I realized (again) that Tuxn isn’t just learning our communication system — she’s running it like she’s the CEO of the deck, the kitchen, the yard, and me.
I don’t touch her buttons.
I’m not allowed to touch her buttons.
She’s just like her daddy — he doesn’t want me touching his stuff either.
Like daughter, like father.
And honestly, that boundary says everything. Tuxn wants her voice to be her voice, not guided, not hinted, not “helped along.” She doesn’t wait for my cues or my suggestions. She decides. She initiates. She directs our conversations like she’s got somewhere to be and I’m the one walking too slow.
I’ll say one word — she’ll stomp five.
I’ll make a sound — she’ll fire back with a whole
Corsonian lecture, complete with side-eye and attitude.
People think teaching a dog to communicate is about vocabulary. But with Tuxn, the real progression is in the confidence behind her choices — the timing, the sass, the way she uses the buttons to shape our day instead of just responding to it.
Every stomp.
Every “I said.”
Every urgent command to “Get to Crack’n.” Every moment she reminds me who’s actually in charge of the schedule.
She’s not copying me.
She’s not waiting on me.
She’s not being directed.
She’s expressing herself — loudly, clearly, and unmistakably.
And today she made it very clear that this is our language, not a one-way system.
She communicates.
I listen.
She leads.
I follow… mostly because she insists.
Watching her take ownership of her voice is the real joy in all of this.
Not the words.
Not the buttons.
But the personality blossoming out of the space between them.
And honestly?
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
TuxnDog — running the show and healing my whole world…
just by being HERE with ME!