Okay, this is too cute. I need to do videos, but they might mean something only to me. So what?
My dog…her name is Coffey. About 35 lbs, the color of coffee beans except for the slightly spotted white on her chest, around her neck, her paws, and a streak like spilled milk on her face from forehead down to around her nose. Marvelous ears.
Happy.
I’m not in a great mood these days, for a variety of reasons, and this morning I seemed stuck in a funk. I have to go in to the Day Job earlier than usual and it’s too damn cold outside to either go to the gym (can’t wait for winter to be over) or walk Coffey. I won’t freeze my tush off anymore just because my dog needs—or wants—a walk. This has been the norm most of this winter. Windchill ducks below 20, we’re not going. She seems okay with it as long as we do something else.
I am writing this just after the something else. Because she made me laugh out loud.
I went upstairs, to the bathroom, and something about it triggered her play response. She sat outside the bathroom door, at attention, looking very expectant. I came out and she ran into the living room and sat again. She watches you when she’s in this state, looking for cues as toyour intention. Which way will I move? Toward her leash? To the couch? And she tries to sit very still while studying me. But when I look directly at her, motionlessness ends. Her tail starts wagging, brushing along the carpet, swish swish swish, and there is enough kinetic energy in it to get her entire butt shifting back and forth, which, when I smile, increases, till she’s pivoting at a point almost midway up her spine.
I laugh.
She grabs her rope.
The Rope is a thick white and green length of about three feet, knotted at both ends and in the middle. This is her favorite thing to do besides walking and eating. I can’t refuse. I grab my end.
The tug begins. It’s amazing how heavy 35 lbs can be when combined with a mental exercise (on her part) to will herself to weigh more. She drops her center of gravity as I lift and suddenly it feels more like 50 or 60 lbs. I yank. She comes off the floor. We whip the rope back and forth across the floor.
Then I begin to spin around. All four of her feet come off the ground and she hangs on, eyes bright, as I whirl her around five, six, ten times before setting her down again. She, at least, is in heaven.
Gloom dissipates. I’m still grinning.
I like my dog.
