philosophicRAVES perfect (per.fikt) adj. 1) complete in all respects; flawless 2) excellent, as in skill or quality 3) completely accurate – Webster
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rave OPINIONa boy and his dog
Tomo is my buddy. No matter where I go or how long I've been gone he's waiting for me when I come home and is always ridiculously happy to see me. It's embarassing. He whines pathetically when I go out to the garage for just a few minutes and waits outside the door when I'm taking a shower. He's a big 95 pound baby and I love him. To people who don't know him he's very imposing. He's a big solid guy whose head comes clear up to my hip. When we're walking down a sidewalk, people get out of the way and marvel at his sheer size. If they only knew what a big baby he is. Every Saturday we get up early and head out to the garden to turn the compost piles. This time of year its our Saturday ritual. Doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun but for this boy and his dog its the best way to start a weekend. I have my coffee, we both have a big breakfast then its out to the garden. As soon as he sees me getting my boots on he's ready by the gate waiting impatiently to get started. I bring out the big compost fork and before I can even finish getting the covers off the bins, he's on top of the piles sniffing, snorting and digging. I let him roam wherever he wants in the composter. I think a rat has taken up residence behind the middle bin and Tomo is certain he's going to catch it. Unfortunately he's a herder and not a hunter so that's not very likely. It probably takes me twice as long to turn the piles when he's helping because he's always in the way but its great. I push him he pushes back. He digs and paws and then jams his head into the compost clear up to his ears. With his tail waving behind him the compost flies in big heavy pawfuls. He's the best. We play with a plastic ring. It's a cheap hunk of plastic from the Albertson's market and its his favorite. We're on about our fifth one now. He has a whole bucketful of toys but the ring is special. I throw it, he brings it back but instead of giving it to me he just slams right into me with it. I grab hold then we tug and pull in mock battle. It's all very carefully choreographed. After the proper amount of tug-of-war I'll whisper, "ok, let go." And that's it. He turns it loose and we start all over again. Simple game, simple fun. His favorite place to sleep is at the foot of out bed. We have a giant California King-sized bed so he can fit at the bottom. Unfortunately for me he likes to sleep laying across my legs which generally means I'm crippled by morning. He tramples Di's flowers, he has a bark that will shatter your eardrums, he sheds enough hair twice a year to make a nice big sweater and I love every inch of him. A boy and his dog... – dave © Copyright iriguchi 2002 |
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