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          Molly and Maggie weren’t friends.  They weren’t enemies, either.  They just tolerated each other, most of the time.

          Maggie was Molly’s neighbor on the Town Circle in Atlantic Beach.  She was a strong and assertive mix of more than a breed or two.  So was Molly.  And both were equally docile and sweet if they knew you and liked you.  The latter being the most important.

          Though they had much in common, there was something odd between them that I had not noticed between Molly and any other dog.

          Molly had been able to smell another dog, friend or foe, for at least a block away, and react predictably as soon as she caught the first whiff.  That is until she met Maggie.          

          Back in our neighborhood in Washington, while she and I were sitting outside our favorite coffee shop, Molly would jump up and prance with obvious glee as soon as she smelled friends such as Bijou, a one-year-old Saint Bernard, or Frazier, a large poodle.  She knew the minute either left the lobby of our apartment building, at the other end of the block.

          On the other hand, when Molly first caught a whiff of old cantankerous Sally Blue (neither having any use for the other), she would pace and throat menacing grunts.

          Those two clear-cut reactions I understood.

          But Molly’s reaction to Maggie was neither.       

          At first sniff of Maggie, Molly perked only a little, raised an ear slightly, and paused briefly, just enough for me to realize that she had detected something, then ignored it. 

          I barely called it a reaction.  Was that her point?

          Was she letting us know that she was ignoring Maggie? 

          Can dogs think like that?

          We humans do that all the time – react to someone’s presence by ignoring them, often when we don’t know how to react.

          Molly and Maggie had had an on-and-off relationship, not entirely confrontational, nor entirely friendly.  A couple of type A’s -- whether dogs or humans, each born to lead, each born to protect -- could be expected to eventually create a conflict or two. 

          They hung out together outside a coffee shop, each tethered to opposite sides of the patio, while the rest of us were inside drinking caffeine and telling tall tales.

          It seemed to be one of their favorite spots – a place where they got lots of petting and occasional treats.  But one morning, a morning when each of their leashes was a bit too long, a well-meaning coffee customer, afraid of getting his fingers nibbled probably, dropped a single treat on the deck between the two.

          Oops.

          I’m sure he didn’t know better.

          Fur flew, literally, as the two fought for the tasty morsel.  I pounced (knocking over my hot coffee), thrust my hands between the two, reached for both their collars, grabbing a handful of loose skin instead, and pulled them apart.  (No, it was not wise to do that, but adrenaline overwhelmed common sense.)

          There was one other confrontation, when, while Molly was inside our picket fence, Maggie approached from the outside.

          Molly shot off like a rocket.  Maggie responded.  (We’ll leave to the Dog Whisperer why Molly never liked any dog through a fence.)

          Once both were inside the patio, they mostly ignored each other as before. 

          In an effort at bonding, I occasionally took both dogs for long walks on the beach.  I had hoped they would eventually romp together, but that didn’t happen.  Once, Maggie sniffed Molly, which raised my hopes.  But Molly continued to ignore Maggie, or so it seemed.

            To take this bonding thing a step further, I invited Maggie to sleep over for few days when my neighbors were out of town. The two dogs didn’t chum around, but they weren’t outwardly tense either.  They even occasionally lay near each other on the second-floor porch, where they watched the activity on the beach and around the Town Circle.

          At the end of Maggie’s visit, the two had been lounging outside for an hour or so when Molly ran inside, wagging her tail rapidly and prancing around with obvious glee.  She looked me in the eye for a few seconds, and then darted back outside, looking back once to see if I was following.  My neighbors were back.

          Was Molly just happy to see them (she did like them)?  Or did she realize that Maggie would be leaving to go home? 

          Whichever, she clearly ran inside to tell me our neighbors had returned.  She had never done anything like that before.