Patti Soldavini

Archive for November 18th, 2012|Daily archive page

Reading Dogs Minds

In dogs, humor, lifestyle, pets, weimaraners, writing on 11/18/2012 at 7:21 pm

“Are you talkin’ about ME?”

At the local dog park the other afternoon, Andy, a dog park “regular,” turns to me and says “Hey. I think Olive is about to ‘go.’ I can tell by the look…” “YOU CAN TELL BY WHAT, THE LOOK ON HER ASS?” I say. Actually, you can tell by the look on Olive’s ass when she is getting ready to drop a lawn cigar. Her docked tail actually becomes a little more erect and she starts walking very fast but taking very tiny steps as she does it. Then, BOOM. She finds the magic spot and leaves a package. Which I then have to retrieve…like a dog. And I learned very quickly to pre-open the poop bags the minute we get to the park so I don’t have to struggle with them like the plastic bags at the grocery store. You know, the ones that take MINUTES to open after rubbing your thumb and index finger against them so hard and so long that you fear it will ignite in a ball of flames? This way, I can minimize the time I spend standing over the aromatic pile of freshly baked brownies Olive’s just served up.

Advertisements

The Joy of Dog

In dogs, humor, lifestyle, pets, weimaraners, writing on 11/18/2012 at 7:00 pm

“THAT was a funky smell. Even to me.”

One of the best things about going for walks with Olive in the Fall is watching her unabashed joy at leaping through countless piles of fallen leaves. This dog, the one who loves to jam her head into holes and dark crevices of any kind, thrusts her snout into these delicate man made mountains and barely comes up for air. As she runs through the pile, I am reminded of my own childhood, when my brother and our friends did the same thing. We’d actually bury ourselves under piles on the lawn and jump into and out of them for hours. It was such great simple fun. This memory is so strong, it actually brings back a “scent memory.” I close my eyes and I recall a very woody, chestnutty scent. “ARE YOU HAVING FUN OLIVE?” She hesitates a second or two to look at me, then returns to prancing through the pile, using her nose alternately as a vacuum cleaner and a rabbit-turd detector. I love experiencing her joy as she experiences it herself on this unseasonably warm, sunny afternoon in the park I used to play in as a child. In moments like these, I feel like I’ve come full circle.

 

%d bloggers like this: