Yesterday was the second straight day of rain. I think it was starting to get to me. Poppy needed to go out, again, in spite of the fact that I had already taken her out, like, a million times. She just wanted to go out and sniff around, and some days that is fine, but since we don’t have a fence, and I have to walk her, and it was pouring rain and chilly, I wasn’t in the mood. But I was less in the mood to clean up pee and/or poop, so I took her out. Again. I figured I would get the mail while I was out there. So I grabbed an umbrella, and the leash, and an empty bag for her little terds, and out we went.
As I expected, she just ran around sniffing. I know she is looking for the deer terd pellets in the yard. She has memorized their location and heads straight for them upon entering the yard. But since I was savvy to that and wouldn’t let her over there, she just decided to see if she could find the bunny that surely lives in the shrubbery. After a few minutes of this, I told her she had better get to business or we were going inside. She continued to jerk me around. She finally pooped, and I cleaned up her mess, and decided to head over to the mail box with my terd bag and umbrella to get the mail so we could go inside. But she decided otherwise. She decided to bolt in the opposite direction, which nearly tore my arm off (okay, not really, but for a 17 pound dog, she is mighty strong). I pulled her back, and tried again to pull the mail out of the box. She attempted to rip my arm off again. I pulled her back again. I got the mail, and headed to the door.
You have to picture me, now, people. I am walking in the rain, with my umbrella, a massive amount of mail, and a bag of terds which is swinging back and forth like a pendulum, and I’m holding the leash of a dog that has decided to go all helter skelter on me. She was running around all over the place, and jerked me again, which made the mail fly everywhere. So I bend down to pick it up, and the umbrella, which was wedged between my chin and shoulder, has now fallen on the ground and I’m getting poured on and the pendulum terds are swinging back and forth in front of my face as I’m bent over. So I gather up the mail, and the umbrella, and I swear to you–I kid you not–she does it again and the mail goes everywhere again. At this point I had had it and I gave her a little taste of her own medicine and gave her a good jerk.
She turned around and looked at me like what the heck lady?!
And then I felt mean.
We went inside.
She shook off all her wetness in the living room of all places.
Boy do I love this dog. I looked at her and her whole little sausagey body was wiggling as she regarded me. I think she was trying to figure out if I was going to kill her or not. But I was looking for forgiveness for losing my temper.
I sat down on the floor.
She slinked over to me, and climbed into my lap, and licked my chin. She has the most beautiful shade of chocolate colored eyes. She looked at me with those eyes, and those long, floppy beagle ears and she knew she was naughty.
That’s the thing with dogs. They just forgive you. And you forgive them. You wrap your arms around them and feel their tail wagging, thumping your ribs, and their entire body wiggling, all that frustration just kind of melts away.
We spent a lot of time curled up on the couch together after that. I watched her sleep, and stretch, and wondered how I could ever get frustrated with that little creature.
Lately, I think a lot about Coco. Since he left us more than 6 years ago, I have felt certain that I would never have the same bond with another dog. But as the days pass with Poppy, I can tell you this: if there is another dog that can worm her way into my soul, it is Poppy. She is not the same, but she is good. She is smart, and forgiving, and happy. She is friendly, and funny, and loyal.
She is leaving her little footprints on me. I can feel it.