Speaking of getting tired, that was the whole point of our outing. Instead of our usual walk, I took them an open field a few blocks away to play fetch. Even though he’s about 11, Pruf is a master fetcher. Just look at him. He’s brought me back his ball (where is Scout’s ball? Nowhere to be found), he’s looking at me, he is ready to go.
In contrast, Scout, who’s about 4, loves to run around but only brings the ball back about 70% of the time. (Pruf usually goes to get me Scout’s ball after he’s dropped of his.) Her favorite place in the world is right next to him. She likes to lay on him, touch him, lick him, be with him.
Clearly, I’m a dog person. I love these creatures: they really complete my life. When I travel for work, I experience such a dearth of sensation. In hotel rooms, there’s no clippity-clop of clumsy paws, no jangling of collar charms. I can’t look into their deep brown eyes, touch their fur (Pruf is coarse and wiry; Scout is silky smooth and soft), or feel their hot breath on my face. (I miss my partner, too, but you know, we can talk on the phone, Skype, email, text, etc.)
Well, I fear this post is official maudlin and veering into the land of cliches about (wo)man’s best friend. Dogs live with a presence that I envy. They work hard and let it go. And I’m grateful for what these two have taught me and continue to teach me.