A whirling dervish, biting everything in her circular path.
A perfect straight, focused sit.
A high-pitched, mind-numbing, ear-piercing, My-Mother-Is-SO-Mean barking fit.
Lying down to joyfully wrestle with a disabled 5-month-old rottweiler who has both of her front legs in toe-to-elbow splints.
Picking up EVERYTHING on our morning walk and getting distracted every 3 seconds instead of emptying her bladder.
Doing the loose-leash walk exercise in our puppy class like she's been doing it for months.
Launching to the end of her leash at a dead run yipping at her first sight of a hopping bunny.
Thundering across the house to me in a gorgeous recall.
Learning to jump and then bouncing on and off and on the coffee table repeatedly.
Attentively settling on her bed to watch me make dinner.
Leaping to grab a toy and simultaneously puncturing my hand with her little needle-teeth. Again.
Sleeping peacefully with her head on 4-year-old borzoi Finn.
Grabbing Finn's leash and dragging him along on our walk, then dancing around us, getting us all tangled in the process.
Enticing Finn to play with exuberance like he hasn't since he was a puppy.
16 weeks old - the puppy gods flipped the switch and I see my angelic puppy, my adult dog-to-be, and some kind of 5th dimension demon child spinning through one little body faster than I can keep up.
Never before has Tim taking over for 30 minutes felt so good.
Though I seem to have a vague memory of Finn a few years ago launching his massive puppy body to the end of his leash to visit a tiny Boston terrier and knocking me over in a pile of wet mulch and dog poop as the morning traffic rushed by on one of the busiest roads in Fayetteville...
I'd forgotten that episode until today. Maybe that's why we do this again... because some quirk of Nature ensures we forget most of the puppy poop and tears and remember the cute, cuddly, sweet, little fluff ball sleeping in our arms.
|Echo and Finn snoozing between play sessions at PetSound Animal Hospital|