I relish in the openness of the meadowland. Watching Gavin make new friends and disappear into the lush trees, that have somehow mastered the art of being grounded and souring into the sky at the same time is peaceful. To me, that is one of the most amazing joys of living with a dog. Finn and Gavin have reminded me to smile, run, romp and play when I needed it. And, like my Lug, the amazing bond has started to form with Lil' Big Head. I have witnessed his heart blossoming as I watch the familiar googly eyed glance he gives me, and only me. I try my best to return the devotion.
In 2009, I had a few days off of work during the Fourth of July holiday. Both Finn and I were itching for some city independence. We had taken our first vacation in a couple years the previous Fall and I knew neither of us could wait another few months to traverse bluffs and waves, together. Being a business owner took a lot of my time. So for the first two years, Finn was content with long walks through the neighborhood; the hostesses at Frasca loved him so much, they came outside without coats on, even on frigid nights to hand deliver him a biscuit and steal a smooch or two. Poor Lug never understand why the nice people did not open their doors in the morning. My soul always twinged a bit when I saw his crestfallen face; wanting and staring at the door handle long before the wine bar opened for the day.
When Finn needed more than a simple stroll; we trained or played games in a quiet cul-de-sac, horsed around the boat yard outside my office with his squeaky toys or swam together late at night, after my classes. If my evil boss (me) was nice enough to schedule a whole day off back then, I always spent it taking Finn to the beach or out to Starved Rock. I knew the chances of finding a place to stay over the holiday, years ago, that allowed dogs was not likely but I tried anyway. A quick internet search led me to choose Saugatuck and the first place I called said they were dog friendly and I took the one spot they had left; all I had to do was get us to Michigan.
One of the rules at the motel was that Finn was not allowed to be alone in the room. That was fine by me, I wanted to spend time hiking with my Lug and sitting on a beach, while tossing tennis balls into the water for him. We hit the state park and the mesmerizing quiet and the abundant turf allowed us both to breath. Finn and I both thrived on fresh air, a soft breeze and the intoxicating allure of losing track of time. When we arrived on the first day, we simply walked. Fortunately, the weather was mild enough that even with Finn's thick fur coat, the canopy of trees kept both of us cool as we trekked over branches; my Lug scurrying off on occasion to scope out a bird or squirrel. Every section of the lake we discovered said "no dogs allowed". Finn kept looking at me with his big, lustful, caramel eyes as the glistening water taunted him. He would forget about it when we found another path to hike. But, that night, as the sun was setting and the air grew almost chilly; Finn smelled it. I huffed and puffed as I followed him down one sand dune and up another; Finn's excitement squeals growing heartier by the second. And, there we were. On the beach, with no one around and no signs to tell us we were not allowed to be there.
Finn stood, impatiently waiting for me to toss the ball for him. And, as the pink and purple sky grew darker;my Lug ran back to me, dropped his ball then ran with wild abandon back into the crisp, clear-blue lake. He was such an impulsive dude. Finn's favorite tennis ball was falling apart after a few weeks of slobbery snatches and stolen chomps. When it became wet, it started to sink to the bottom of the lake. I saw his head go down and his butt in the air; I swear that dog would have drowned himself trying to get to it if I had not gone to get him. Fortunately, I always have a second tennis ball attached to my leash because he needed and deserved a very long game of fetch in the water that night. We spent our remaining days on that beach.
After Gavin and I spent our afternoon free of parkways and streets he has to "sit" next to before crossing; I took the little guy to get a bath. I love taking him to Beck Lake but once one dog discovers the amazingness that is rolling in dead fish, they all follow. It was such a beautiful day and neither of us were ready to go home so Gavin and I went at Gompers Park. While I ate lunch, he snuffled under the bench. I was sitting there with my sweet dog, enjoying the sound of the birds, cotton candy colored flowers and the occasional walker or bicyclist who genuinely smiled, made eye contact and offered a cheery "hello!" As I nourished myself with calm; a deep, chocolate brown butterfly kept circling Gavin and I. It fluttered in front of me then landed on the back of the seat next to me, sneaking closer with every flap of it's delicate wings. When I reached my hand out, I noticed the wings were tipped in a glorious caramel color, just like Finn's eyes. It danced away. The butterfly came back and was spinning in the air with another beautiful creature who shared the exact same coloring. It was breathtaking in a way that allows me to hold on to Finn; without losing sight of what is right in front of me, Gavin and my tomorrows. The serenity was interrupted when Sam, the yellow lab came barreling up. He and Gavin just love each other and his mom remembered me too, fondly. And, when I watch them wrestle or I meet another amazing Lab; I start to believe that when I am ready to bring home a second dog, he or she might just share the same physical attributes as my Lug.
No comments:
Post a Comment