Ever since Molly was a puppy, she has had a fascination with socks. If I was sorting my laundry, she would race over, grab one of my socks, and go tearing through the house with it. If I didn't immediately chase her, she would come back, stand in front of me, and shake the hell out of it (I always refer to it as her "kill" move), and dare me to get it from her.
It didn't take me long to figure out that it was the thrill of the chase for her. That would be me chasing her. If it was one of my good socks, I would try a little bit harder to get it back from her without her tearing holes in it. If it was one of my old, ratty socks, a healthy tug-of-war/wrestling match would ensue.
Since Molly and I are a bit older now, the daily sock fights grew further and further apart and eventually turned into a bi-weekly event. Now they hardly happen at all.
Yesterday I was surprised when Molly came to me with one of my socks in her mouth and wanted to play. I chased for a few minutes and then we wrestled and a good time was had by all. All two of us. We both had to take a nap shortly afterwards. We are not as young as we used to be.
When Molly brought me the sock yesterday, I was really depressed and down in the dumps. I have had a tough stretch lately but Molly always seems to know when I need a "pick me up" and she does whatever she has to provide it. Sometimes its a soft nuzzle of the nose, sometimes she'll crawl up and lay beside me, and other times its a walk in the woods or the neighborhood. She just always seems to know. A dog is truly mans best friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment