Recently Kathy and I went away on a brief trip—just a couple of days. Before we found Sherri, that would have been a bit of a trial. The previous places we'd left Oz had been…let's just say disappointing. Let's stop there, because we don't want to say "traumatic" or anything harsher. Let's just say Oz, who is always lively and friendly, and had never cringed in her life, was silent and cringing after two days at one place. And we were guilty for some time.
But going to Sherri's is a treat. Oz knows the name, and knows that it means she gets to go on a R-I-D-E to get there. (Hey, she's under my feet as I type this—can't be too careful.) This means Oz is throwing herself from side to side, rubbing us like cats, and in general ready to go.
Bang, she leads the way straight to the car. A good dawg all the way there in the car. Once the car door opens, Oz leads us immediately up onto Sherri's lawn. The only hesitation is whether to go directly to the back yard with other dogs, or to the front door where we enter the house. Ah!
And when I come to get her, it isn't "Oh thank god, rescue me!" but rather "Hey! You found your way here too! Now we can all play!" Oz is nothing but not a generous, sharing silly.
So we came back, and I drove over to get Oz. She was happy to see me, and happy to see Kathy, and happy to have chicken scraps from the takeout we had, yum yum yum.
But she really showed her emotions later in the night. Usually, we walk slowly on the night W's. We take our time, smelling and feeling the shadows.
That night, we ran. She pulled me to run with her so quickly I couldn't get the flashlight on, so we ran, dog and man, blind into the night. Happy as clams, both trusting the other beyond sense.
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