~ Singing Chihuahua, and The Answer is… C6 & E9 ~
Sometimes, as days go by and life continues in the usual manner without a crisis or a series of problems, a dog, (or hoomans too) can forget what an exceptionally good day feels like.
If you don’t know much about us-on-four of the canine species, we are generally optimistic and fun loving. Even if we encounter disappointments throughout a particular day, when it’s time for us to curl up and bed down after nightfall, we still consider it a good and happy day.
One never knows when mundane and simple interactions open a door into unforgettable moments that become the fondest of memories.
Yesterday, Dad was home the whole day. He had been running a tough schedule that had him gone from pre-dawn to an after-dark return home. The pack collectively knew early on he was staying home yesterday. His alarm didn’t go off two hours before dawn even thought about hinting at her arrival. Sixteen legs and four pairs of eyes were ready to follow every move Dad was going to make two hours before his eyelids reluctantly opened. We really missed him.
Everything about the day was routine and it ran it’s course with extra affection and contact within the whole pack family. By early afternoon large, rainless clouds, hid the sun and gave opportunity for Mom and rest of the pack to work in the garden without “sun pressure”. Garden work is not my thing (if I haven’t mentioned that before).
I noticed Dad didn’t follow the “herd” outside and found him laying across the bed, feet on the carpet, listening to music or taking a call. I jumped up to join him with a plan to encourage a secret cookie while we were alone in the house.
He pulled the plastic bit out of his ear and I could hear music coming from it. I put my muzzle on his chest and pressed down with the slightest of sighs. Dad chuckled quietly knowing I was probably up to something.
I asked him what was coming out of the plastic bit in his hand and he made the music come out of his mini screen thing. Strains of music wafted through the bedroom. Emphasis on strained.
He told me he was listening a Neil Young song and trying figure out some of the pedal steel chords and what tuning it was using. I yawned (can you blame me?) and pressed down a little harder with my chin while insistent visions of dogger biscuits danced in my head.
The song faded and I was relieved… and disappointed a moment later as it began again. The same song.
When Neil started singing, I tried to imagine what breed he would be if he was a dog. The longer the song draaaaagged on, and the more he sang, the smaller he got in my mind.
I settled on the image of an old tiny chihuahua.
Dad snapped me out of my musings by asking if I needed to go outside. I had started to push down pretty hard with my muzzle as I was lost in thought. That’s my normal signal that I need to get outside quickly.
I let up and put a paw across Dad’s chest. That’s my signal that I need your attention, if you’re laying down.
Dad reached around me and gave me a soft body hug and left his arm around me. Usually I would roll on my back to get a good chest rubbins if a hooman leaves an unoccupied available arm nearby. I realized it had been a while since it’s been just Dad and me hanging out alone without interruption. So I laid still, but still pressing.
I let the tiny chihuahua, chest rubs, and thoughts of secret treats float away and reveled in the contact with my friend and loyal companion. When I didn’t roll over as I always would otherwise, Dad noticed, and brought me in just a little closer.
He canceled the mini-screen’s music, and we held each other in silence for an unending moment while we both recalled without words how much we valued each other.
Dad broke the silence by recounting my history from my beginning here at this home and family, and all the changes that had occurred in our pack. The passing of Bella, the raising of foster dogs for service, the arrival of Tucker Oso, Keira Bear, and now Promise Prudence Pepper. He talked about our road adventures and brought to my memory events I had forgotten about.
He summed it all up with telling me how thankful he was that I was so willing to adapt (in time) to all these changes and challenges, and that he was pretty sure that in all the world there was no other dog that could have done what I had done over the years together.
Again, silence between us… The most perfect silence on a most perfect day… Until the whole garden party came back into the house.
We both listened as twelve frantic dog legs raced around the house to find us. And found we were.
Keira first through the door and up on the bed, Tucker next, coming along side to Dad’s other arm for a possible head scratch and ear waggle, and of course Pru rocketed in and up into the air and onto Dad’s chest, immediately trying to wedge in between Dad and I while licking my face frantically trying to drive me away.
I responded with a bark and a snap of teeth which made her leap off of Dad. I’m not altogether sure where her rear legs kicked off from Dad’s body, but it made him yelp like Neil Young, let go of me, and sit straight up in bed like a shot.
Mom came in the bedroom to see what that noise was.
“I though you were going to help me with watering,” she said.
Dad try to say, “Be right there,” but it didn’t sound like him. He put his index finger in the air to signal to Mom to give him a minute.
“Mom, I think Pru broke Dad,” Keira piped in as Dad moaned and bent in half.
“C’mon kidz, let’s get a cookie while Dad walks it off.” Mom turned and led only three of the pack down the hallway.
This highly food-obsessed red-dog-rocket-girl decided to stay with her friend.
Epilogue
“You okay, Dad?”
“I’ll be okay. Pru got me pretty good, but not as bad as I made it out to be…didn’t feel like working outside today. Hey, want to listen to some more Neil Young with me?”
“Uh…no…but thanks, Dad. Mom will worry if I don’t come out for a cookie.”
~ Hazel Bazel Rocket Dog ~
