All is Right in Olive’s World.

Olive almost wet her pants with excitement when my brother, his wife and my nephew arrived from Florida. Olive raced over to them, her tail literally spinning in anticipation of meeting new people (and seeing my nephew once again.) Olive’s entire body is radiating pleasure as she leaps up to greet each person. Yes, this is one bad habit of hers that I have yet to break. As usual, I announce, “Just ignore her until she calms down. Don’t pet her. Don’t even look at her.” But it’s hard for most people to ignore the unconditional happiness Olive directs their way. They really want to reach out and acknowledge the greeting of this beautiful creature with a tactile greeting of their own. Olive finally calms down, remains on all fours and tracks everyone throughout the house like they are walking, talking bully sticks. I am certain that at this moment, what she is saying to herself is this: “MORE HANDS TO PET ME! MORE BUTTS TO SNIFF, MORE FACES TO LICK! MORE PEOPLE TO PLAY WITH ME, YEA!” Olive spends the rest of the evening reclining on the floor at my brother’s feet like some little geisha doll, laying atop the back of the couch above my nephew like a mini-Cleopatra, and sidling up to Di like an attention-starved child for more innocent canoodling. For the most part, she ignores me as though I am just another piece of furniture that she knows well enough. Occasionally, she glances sideways at me just to make sure that I’m not going anywhere. “DON’T WORRY OLIVE, MY LITTLE VELCRO CUR. I’M STILL HERE. GO CHECK OUT ALL THE NEW PEOPLE.” I love to see her light up with excitement when the house hums with activity. On the occasions when guests visit, it’s like Christmas morning and all the new people are presents that she has received. Each one is a surprise waiting to be revealed to Olive. Early the next morning, though not as early as Olive’s 4:30am awakening, my brother appears at my bedroom doorway in the near darkness as a large hulking silhouette. Olive, lying on my bed by now under her tartan throw goes batshit. She lets loose with a foundation-shaking bark that scores higher on the decibel meter than a firehouse siren. “WWWWWOOOOOOOOFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF” It was impressive. I’m sure that at the very least, it made the hairs on the back of my brother’s neck stand up for just a second. At worst, it may have scared the morning “BM” out of him. It also made me laugh. Actually, I probably cackled with glee. Later that day, we make our way to PetSmart to buy a crate, bed, bowls, toys, etc. for the two new Shar-pups. Only my family could walk into a store on that sort of mission and as if we are contestants on “Beat The Clock,” be finished and at the check out in under 10 minutes. We are a decisive bunch. With impulsive notes. And a dash of ADHD. We load up the Chrysler Towne and Country rental van and off we go to the breeder’s. To be continued…