Tuck’s 84 in dog years, still he’s such a little boy.”
His stocking’s hung on high again. He’s asking for a toy.
“A raw hide too would sure be sweet,” he told his sister Tink.
“So get that list to Santa quick! You’ll miss him if you blink.”
My handsome man Rex and I were up extra early yesterday.
He seems to always know when another Sunday morning rolls around again.
He’s also knows that means a walk to the lake is definitely on the agenda.
Approaching the lake, Rex and I chose a dirt path alongside the shore then continued walking towards the rose garden just ahead.
He listened to the excited chirps of the gold finches. I admired the sailboats dancing lightly on the sparking blue waters.
And we both warmly welcomed the cool breeze on a sticky summer morning.
It was the perfect gift from the lake just behind us.
As we crossed over to the rose garden, Rex suddenly looked concerned as he watched a couple of walkers and joggers begin to lose their balance.
“It’s ok, Rex,” I told him, adding, “they’re just on their phones and not paying attention.”
I was saddened a bit that some of our two legged friends were missing the beauty all around them.
Maybe Rex was as well.
But suddenly, with his nose up in the air, my two legged friend excitedly led me over to one large flower bed to stop and smell those roses.
I couldn’t help but think some days our dogs really are a lot smarter than us.
Winter was particularly ruff for my little handsome man, Rex.
Life in the snow belt is often a cruel and slippery slope.
And this year even more so for a 7 pound pup who hails from Alabama.
Rex is typically a trooper, but the towering ice coated snow drifts were already wearing him down by the time a mid April blizzard hit.
My boy grew anxious, chewing on his dog tags in frustration.
But Rex is doing better now.
He has returned to his cozy loveseat on the sun porch where he naps to the cardinals’ spring serenade each day after breakfast.
Though I do catch an open eye on occasion. Rex remains very focused on the one remaining snowdrift next to our shady garage.
My little watch dog wants to make sure it continues to melt.
For that matter, so do I.
Today was our 24th morning with below zero temps.
The weather’s getting old, both for me and my handsome man Rex.
Midwestern winters can get a lot worse than this one, still we both knew we needed to shake off our sour attitudes some.
Rex grabbed his napping brother Tucker’s letter jacket for an early Valentine’s date at our favorite coffee and crepe shop.
We immediately knew we’d scored a win as we walked in the door and smelled the sweet scents from the oven.
Though my glasses were steamed up as I approached the counter, I could see there was one chocolate chip cookie left just for us though Rex preferred the long, thin crispy wafer that came with our cappuccino.
Rex was attracting more than a few smiles in spite of a mohawk that’s gone radically rogue. In fact, I even thought I caught him winking back at a couple of stylish young ladies at the next table glancing his direction.
But then a slightly older, smiling woman walked up to us and said, “Oh, but I can tell he’s a good boy. In fact, a VERY good boy! I can see it in his eyes.”
Suddendly Rex looked up at me for a moment and gave me some sweet and gentle kisses on my hand.
I warmly nodded at the woman and told her, “Oh, yes. This loving Valentine is most definitely a winner.”
It was supposed to be my chihuahua Tinkerbelle’s costume.
A pretty tutu it was, bought second hand from the rescue group for Tink’s very first Halloween.
But Tink was terrified and absolutely refused to wear it.
Sometime on Halloween night my terrier Tucker found that tutu on the dining room table, and thinking it was some kind of a tasty treat pulled it right down on the rug.
Once I turned on the lights in the morning, I jumped.
I saw Tuck had learned a very spooky new trick.
Somehow he’d managed to get the tutu up on his head just like a crown.
Now Tuck’s a senior and has never been fond of Halloween. Typically he’d hide under the couch shaking his fears away until the last of the door knocking ghosts and goblins were gone.
But I guess you can always change, no matter if you’re young or old.
And looking at Tuck’s face I believe that my old boy is mighty proud of himself, just as he should be.