"Every dog must have his day." ~Jonathan Swift
And what a day it is! Full sunshine, cool fall breeze, dragonflies darting here and there and everywhere. The leaves are beginning to change in earnest -- deep reds of sumac, burning bushes and the start of maples. The yellows of birch and ash. It's coming, there is no doubt. But for today, it's gone to the dogs.
I got home from work to find Trooper laying oblivious in a sunbeam on the living room floor, the epitome of pure joy. At my sound, she roused and when I grabbed her leash, her tail went into full propeller-mode which means, "Whoa! Really? A walk? This is the absolute best moment of my life!" Off we went exploring into the warmth of the sun.
We were greeted happily by the first two dogs we saw, a yellow and a black lab who live on the corner a couple of blocks away. Enthusiastic barkers, they wagged their tails and lolled their tongues, spreading the joy of the afternoon.
The third, a gracefully aging Golden Retriever, waited patiently until we were up close and personal before wagging her tail and sighing, as if grateful for the chance to say "hi" without an extensive amount of effort.
Number four was a sleek German Shepherd, anxious to pull his person across the boulevard for a sniff and stare (as opposed to a meet and greet, I think).
Fifth was a wiley Black Lab who had trained her person well: Said person stood at the crest of the hill throwing a well-loved blue Frisbee down across the field in artistically skilled arcs over and over and over again. Number five just kept running to get the Frisbee and looked pleased with herself that she managed to get her person some exercise on this incredible day. She was willing to sacrifice herself if it meant her person was happy. It looked like tough-love to us...what a job! But someone's got to do it.
Jack, the Russell, was the sixth to cross our path. An exuberant fellow, he wheeled circles around his person as they walked up the street. They were quite a beautiful sight: one walking, one dancing, each to the beat of their own drum.
Number seven sat next to the park bench that held his person. A large tawny canine, lucky seven watched us proceed the entire way across the park though it seemed he was to be watching his little charges on the swingset instead. Distracted as he was, though pleasantly so, he whined as we got close, obviously commenting to his person about Trooper's shiny black coat and trim, girlish figure. Trooper turned her head, playing hard-to-get, and kept on walking as if she'd heard it all before.
A voice in the distance was the eighth of the bunch. Clearly, we were seen, but he, only heard.
Tiny was the ninth, in the yard down the block, whom we waved to as we turned the corner toward home.
As for us, it's back to the yard for me to blog, and she to do what she does best -- be a dog on this most inviting of dog day afternoons.
Tonight, what a treat! We're headed to Fermentations for a little wine and dine in the beautiful, thriving metropolis of Dundas. The new menu starts tonight! If you haven't been, I promise you, it's worth the trip!//