When Sadie wants something, she stands in front of me and gives me a “look” that says, “I want something. Figure it out.” Based on the time of day, I usually figure “it” out and take care of things. If I miss the look or don’t respond right away she comes closer and taps me with “the paw” and gives me another “look,” making sure our eyes meet. These add up to, “This is serious. Get with the program, Dad.”
Sadie has never exhibited any separation anxiety by trying to force her way out as we’re leaving, barking or howling while we’re gone, destroying things, etc. However, once in awhile we return to a shredded paper towel on the floor. I haven’t documented the exact conditions, but maybe it was when she thought we would be out past her evening meal. (Can’t say “suppertime,” she’ll get excited.)
This particular episode occurred mid-day while everyone was home. I was moving around the house doing 
various things, maybe in and out of the garage. I came back into the living room, and “Voila!” Obviously this was my fault. I had missed “the look” and was roaming about so much I wasn’t available for “the paw.”
Postlude: Sadie is “channeling” Bessy, our first Berner, who has been gone 20 years. For various reasons, Bessy was occasionally home alone all day with no problems. However, if the entire family left in the morning, came home late in the afternoon, fed Bessy and let her out and in, then departed again and came home late at night, it was a whole ‘nother story.
Nothing drastic, we’d just find a paper towel shredded somewhere in the house – a sign that she was upset at the lack of quality time with her family. We had no idea where she got the paper towels. The holders were high off the floor in the kitchen and never gave any indication of being disturbed. We decided that a lone paper towel was a small price to pay if it comforted Bessy to express herself that way. To be sure her loneliness didn’t escalate to ripping couch cushions or climbing on the kitchen counter and getting the whole roll of paper towels, whenever we had to make a “quick turn,” we’d always leave one paper towel out where she could find it. We never made it too obvious, but left it on a dining room chair, sticking out from underneath a magazine or somewhere it would look like she had deviously located it.
We’d come home and find it shredded and all was good. We’d be humorously upset at the towel, so Bessy would know she’d gotten her point across, but we never fussed at her. One night we came home and found a shredded paper towel in the middle of the living room floor, where it couldn’t have been more visible unless it had been taped to the carport door.
This paper towel wasn’t chewed up. It was carefully torn into absolutely identical strips, each one about 1.5 inches wide, and precisely placed exactly side-by-side as though someone was about to tape them back together. I challenge a human to tear a paper towel as meticulously as that paper towel was torn!
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from Jim, North Carolina, with the postlude from California