Friday, November 05, 2010

A Morning Pet

As I am trying to write this morning, Syrah the Mighty is up.

This is a bit unusual for her - she is typically a slug-a-bed until 0630, sleeping in our room or patiently waiting in front of the door of Nighean Gheal until she gets up in the morning (because she is the one that feeds her). It is not that she wouldn't get up in case of emergency I guess - it's just that from her point of view there's really no need to get up before food's available.

But this morning for reasons unknown, she's up. You can hear her coming: clumping down the stairs, then the click-click of her nails as they come across laminate floor. She comes up to you, wagging her tail, both (I suppose) in greeting as well as in hopes that you might suddenly be overcome by the urge to play ball at 0600.

I let her out to do her business, then let her back in. I heard her go back up the stairs (click click click click, clump clump clump) to check if anyone was up, then the reverse of the sounds as she comes back down. Suddenly, as I'm sitting here looking at the blinking cursor on my screen she pushes her head under my elbow and I have a wet nose and big brown eyes looking up at me.

"Hi" she says. "Pet me".

I give her a pet or two followed by the two pats on the back indicating "I'm done" and she wanders off by the couch, where she lays back down (no doubt patiently waiting for the noises heralding the arrival of the Breakfast Fairy).

It is, I suppose, somewhat remarkable that in an age of instant communication and entertainment, in a time when so much is available to us for stimulation and education, that the simple love (and hopeful look!) of a dog continues to provide satisfaction and value.

In the midst of the complex, the simple still rules.

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