Well, 6 months in with DeeDee and 3 months with Craigie D. You may be thinking things have settled here. Lord help me….
In a sense they have.
Both DeeDee and Craigie are loving life in a home. With a yard. With toys. Food. Dog beds. Walks. Ahhhhhh. Sweet…
They are overjoyed when I walk back in the house from the mailbox. 25 feet away?
Craigie most especially loves flipping toys around, at the expense of my face. Or the tv. Or the cat. Ooops.
My yard? Churned turf and not much else. Well, it’s not completely their fault. The grass wasn’t growing well there anyway. Right? Oh well. Dogs just wanna have fun…
Things have settled in the fact they are happy here. Happy with life. Never a cage and nothing but love surrounds them. And they know it every waking moment.
Our forecast is calling for some freezing “stuff”. Neither of these guys have a clue about steps yet. Clumsy at best, disaster waiting to happen at worst.
And Dee is a leaper. I can stand as goalie for a skidding black greyhound-puck. But at 70 pounds, I think we’re both going to hurt.
Day to day life. My kids race into the house like their lives depended on it. Hey!! You’re not there anymore!! I open the door, call them then get the hell out of the way. I can feel the air move as they charge through the open door. I know one of us is gonna get hurt one day. Most likely me…
My kids have two modes. Hyper-speed and sound asleep. There are occasional bursts of walking nicely, playing nicely, but...
You know, I make light of much about my greyhounds. I do so for a good reason. They have such an unbridled joy for life. Every morning is a new reason to jump up and wiggle and wag tails and prance. Every morning is a reason to block me in the hall until I can kiss and hug wiggly things. Every day is a chance to snag a toy not allowed outside that goes outside is one over on the mom. Every day of curling up and snuggling results in a contented sigh.
I revel in their joy of life because I know of their former life. Racing greyhounds don’t have doggie beds, or fenced yards, or decks to leap on. They can’t wiggle and lick and prance for food. They can’t toss around toys. Bark at a knock at the door. Or smell the wonders of a meal cooked in a kitchen. They can’t curl up on a dog bed or the couch.
A promise to my angels. My rescued Greyhounds. My DeeDee and Craigie.
I will be here forever. That other world does not touch you now.
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