Lazy Lovin' on a Saturday Afternoon

Bob is in class and Roxie and I are left to entertain ourselves... there is a Michigan law that prohibits housework on Saturdays (I'm sure I read it correctly...) so we decided to hunker down.

Roxie called me with a squeaky yawn, informing me that she was ready for her lovin'. She informs, I jump. As we settled into (what else?) the red chair and covered with the flannel quilt I began to wonder if anyone else was as lucky as me. Could life get any better?

It's been almost three months since Rox came to live with us. From the first days when I looked at her as a strange interloper, to the weeks when she began to seem like a real little person in a wirehair coat, I've grown to love her in a profound way. Bob loved her immediately. He drooled and fawned, rubbed and petted and basically accepted her immediately into his heart. He'd been waiting for a Roxie. He needed a Roxie. And for Bob, she didn't disappoint. How is it that she was so exactly, precisely what he needed and wanted? Life seems so peculiar and wondrous to me.

The two of them head off into the woods at least twice a day, sometimes three times. Since I'm not included I can only guess, but it seems almost mystical, the bond between them. They must both find something they need in the woods on those long walks. Bob never returns without a fun or dramatic story to amaze. Roxie never returns without needing something picked off her - ice, snow, picker balls, mud.... but she is most certainly smiling as she gets her post-walk drink.

Now that the winter is beating us all down, she returns to the warmed flannel quilt for Burrito Time. Wrapped snugly to warm her feets, she lets me hold her and tells me with her eyes all the wonderful things she saw and smelled. But story time is short, and after 10 minutes of warming, she's off to ask for her post-Burrito treat. Which comes after her post-walk, pre-Burrito treat. And then, after those long cold walks, she asks to go outside to the back yard. Roxie is an outdoor girl, a being who was probably a girl scout and hiker in her previous lives.

This morning as I held her, she rolled and turned, twisted and squirmed so as to get all her parts petted, rubbed, combed and tickled. Her beard and whiskers are growing back, albeit slowly. Her little mustache gets pulled right into her mouth each time she licks. I have to wonder how that feels?! It looks hilarious but I dare not laugh - she gives the most evil eye in the world.

So here I am, waxing philosophically about a dog who isn't really a dog but a beloved member of our family. How did this happen? When did she get so completely inside my heart?

We think she understands by now that she is here to stay. No more moving, no more foster homes. The little defensive behaviors have stopped and she seems firmly in charge of her new home and people. We've figured out her quirks and respect them.

There is simply no substitute for holding close a warm loving 4-legged being to induce an endorphin high, a feeling of peace in the world.

We feel incredibly lucky.