Thereafter, without prompting, as a matter of course when handed a bone, he carried it to the corner.
And why not?
He had the wit to grasp what Steward desired of him; he had the heart that made it a happiness for him to serve.

Steward was a god who was kind, who loved him with voice and lip, who loved him with touch of hand, rub of nose, or enfolding arm.

As all service flourishes in the soil of love, so with Michael.

Had Steward commanded him to forego the chicken bone after it was in the corner, he would have served him by foregoing.

Which is the way of the dog, the only animal that will cheerfully and gladly, with leaping body of joy, leave its food uneaten in order to accompany or to serve its human master.
Practically all his waking time off duty, Dag Daughtry spent with the imprisoned Michael, who, at command, had quickly learned to refrain from whining and barking.