I prop my feet on the chair
while taking in the scenery from my sister’s deck in Mount Vernon, Maine. A mug
filled with hot coffee warms my palms in the cool morning air. A window box on
the balcony rail overflows with impatiens, adding a splash of color against the
evergreens in the distance and the mountains beyond. The view is breathtaking
and peaceful.
Willow |
Underneath my outstretched legs my sister’s Labrador
Retriever is lying very still. The only times
I’ve seen her relaxed during daylight hours is when she's asleep after playing
hard. At this moment she is not sleeping. She’s just still.
Just as quickly as I make
that assessment, her eye catches a wire dangling between my laptop and the
electrical outlet on the wall behind me. From a puppy’s point of view, it’s
just another chew toy, so I remove the cord from her mouth. She’s lying down
again, but can a Labrador puppy ever really be calm? Now she’s gnawing on a
bone, distracted.
My sister named her Willow
due to the abundance of weeping willows here in Maine. I’ve always
considered a weeping willow a graceful-looking tree. This pup is anything but
graceful. With her chocolaty-brown eyes, she is a Marley-look-a-like from the
2008 movie entitled Marley & Me.
In the 2005 bestselling book with the same title, Marley’s owner must’ve been
writing about Willow even though she wasn’t born yet. He experienced firsthand
how her breed can be a bit out of control at times.
At only four and a half
months old, the top of her head is even with the top of my knee caps. One knee
cap, along with my shins, took quite a beating this morning as Willow greeted
me, her tail whacking like a baseball bat. However, there is nothing like the
overwhelming love when coming face-to-snout with a cute and loyal puppy no
matter what size it is. After all, isn’t that why dogs are called man’s best
friend?
This furry mass of
never-ending energy greets with her whole body, literally. Her head, middle,
and hindquarters wiggle and shake in different directions simultaneously while
her tail whirls like helicopter blades. Dancing this jig, she crisscrosses one
oversize paw in front of the other while walking toward you. Sometimes she just
bowls right over you.
My 7-year-old niece, Amber, makes her
way to the deck and sits in a chair two feet from me. Her entrance sends Willow
into another frenzy of wiggles. The floppy-ear canine paces to and fro between
us, her tail thumping against our legs. A computer wire somehow gets wrapped around her neck.
After I unwind the cord, she spots a chew rope on the deck. Attached at the end
of it is a four-inch toy tire made of hard rubber. Willow retrieves it and swings the rope from
side to side, bashing the tire against my legs. I’m sure the bruises will be
gone by the time I head back home in five days.
Willow standing behind pint-size Buddy |
My sister’s two Shih Tzu
dogs have adjusted somewhat to Willow’s arrival. There has never been a dull
moment in this house with these two canines, but now there is more... um,
adventure with Willow around. I’m told the older Shih Tzu made it known at the get-go that she
would not partake in any roughhousing. Hence, Buddy, the
2-year-old Shih Tzu, had no problem stepping up to the challenge. Thinking
he’s as big as the Labrador, this diminutive male instigates a lot of the mayhem
involving Willow. He has a habit of running under the kitchen table as the
overgrown pup follows in hot pursuit, barreling through chair legs and
unsettling anything in her path. I hate to use a cliché, but Willow is the
ultimate bull in a china closet. At times, I think Buddy stirs up a ruckus on
purpose just to get her in trouble.
I don’t know if Willow will
ever learn any refined doggie manners such as not inhaling the whole bowl of
water when she gulps. However, her companionship and exuberance will be
cherished by my nieces for years to come.
In the meantime, her
never-ending shenanigans will leave her humans scratching their heads,
wondering what’s coming next.
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