Daisy, the philosopher

Written by Elaina R. Bergamini

Monday, 06 December 2004

"Is she wiser than me?" I wonder as I let her inside to warm up. My dog, Daisy Mae (aka DM, DD for daisy dog, Monkey butt, Monkey girl, crazy mae, lazy mae, little latin lady, and so on), seems to have a better grasp for enjoying life than I. She darts to and fro with tongue lolling- happy dog sprinting for the sake of sprinting. “I can run THIS fast…. No, THIS fast…” I giggle as I work and tell her she’s a good girl, but she sucks me into her little game. She charges, body-checks me, and then looks up at me expectantly. I drop whatever mundane task I am attending (emptying ashes, getting wood, whatever), and she and I race around, chasing each other by turn. She always wins. I love that I can laugh out loud… LOUD… and scream. She does little spins in mid-air. I stretch out my arms and spin in circles. We stop and listen to the wind. After a while, she gets a little tired, runs up to my legs and just leans against me for a recharge. Freshly charged, she’s off again. My little Puerto Rican sato loves the snow. With only 1/2 an inch to an inch at the end of fall, there isn’t much to play in, but she still manages to enjoy it. She races in sweeping circles as though Satan himself is chasing her. She stops, bends down, opens her little mouth and scoops up a line of snow with her bottom jaw, like a little snow shovel. I laugh at her and she looks up at me with confusion, ears cocked, nose covered in snow. Then she darts to another clean patch of snow and does it again. When we’re done, my cheeks are bright and my eyes teary from the cold, but I am happy and I am charged. I feel like I've regained more than a decade. I look down at my angel as I open the door and when she looks up at me, I might have imagined it, but think I saw pride in her eyes- that of a teacher for her student. “You did good, momma.”

Last Updated ( Monday, 06 December 2004 )

 

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